


Hot Milky

by shame_on_me



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Awkward Boners, Breastfeeding, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort Food, Cuddling & Snuggling, Foiled Confessions, Lactation, M/M, Male Lactation, Rejection, Showers, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest, Skinship, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love, bro-con, incest is more implied, ok it's past mcgenji now lol, skirting dangerously towards mchanzo and mcgenji now lol, unrequited mchanzo btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:58:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8125985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shame_on_me/pseuds/shame_on_me
Summary: What it says on the tit





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Genji/Hanzo: more than bosom brothers; McCree and Genji: “breast” friends; McCree --> Hanzo: wants to be his “boo-b”

Being a man of habit had its drawbacks.  Everyone on the team noticed whenever Hanzo did something differently.  This morning, he had shown up to the morning meal with his gi now covering both shoulders instead of one, the sleeves tied up and out of the way, a protective shield strapped over his left breast, as he had worn back when he was a teenager practicing archery on the castle grounds.  While that seemed normal enough to the average onlooker, his constant shivering and softly miserable sniffing at the table gave off an aura of such noble suffering that eventually the others had to comment.

He assured everyone with a rather stuffy voice that he felt well enough to go through today’s training session and debriefing, having taken some medication for his symptoms already, but he would retire to his quarters immediately afterward and requested to not be interrupted while he slept off this cold.  Finding no fault with that logic, Mercy only added that someone should at least drop by to bring him more medicine and chicken noodle soup and make sure he gets both into his system.  Hanzo glanced at Genji, who nodded, while McCree sitting in the seat between them looked noticeably crestfallen at being ignored.

Already Hanzo was feeling a little better.

While he managed to meet expected hit rates throughout the training, there were several instances in which Hanzo completely missed his target due to his nose deciding to drip like a faucet at an inconvenient time.  The spirit dragons did not grace him that day with their added fortitude, nor did he expect them to.  He did not quite apologize, at least not aloud, for his lackluster performance, but his frown deepened to unseen severity throughout the session and the meeting.

As was his habit, McCree trailed after Hanzo the moment they were dismissed from the debriefing, his spurs ringing musically while they headed to their private quarters.

“Your concern is appreciated, McCree-san,” Hanzo muttered impatiently, not daring to meet the other man’s eyes as he tried to walk faster than McCree with his annoyingly long legs can keep up and failed, “but I really must go.  It would be in your favor to leave me alone for now, in case you get infected, too.”

The cowboy’s brown eyes lit up with the realization that Hanzo was, in his own unfriendly way, looking out for him.  “Guess I can’t argue with that,” McCree said cheerfully.  “Well, you’ll be better than fine by tomorrow morning, I’ll bet.  Take care of yourself until then.”  Then he was thumbing at the brim of his hat, sun-tanned cheeks darkening with a blush.  “And Hanzo, if you ever feel cold in the future, you don’t have to suffer alone.  I’ll always be glad to help however I can, you know that.”

Hanzo had been about to close the door on him, but upon hearing that last statement and wishing to set things straight, he caught McCree’s hopeful gaze and said as clearly as he could, “I understand, but that will not be necessary.  Ever.  Good night.”  Then shut the door on the man’s protests.

He waited just long enough to hear the sound of McCree’s spurs jangle somehow dejectedly off into the distance and sighed.  McCree would recover his spirits soon enough; after all, he had been trying to court Hanzo for weeks now despite repeated rejections.  It would have been better to not reject him in the first place, a fairly good man whom the others liked, but Hanzo truly believed they could never be and that was that.

* * *

* * *

 

Now to wait in misery for his brother.  Gingerly untying various belts and straps, setting the quiver and sake bottle aside with his glove and armor, Hanzo settled into his bed with a wince.  He felt sore from the tip of his runny nose to the soles of his feet, but a different ache had been welling up somewhere below his collarbones since waking, making it impossible for him to rest for more than a few minutes at a time.  He adjusted his gi constantly, attempting to ease the discomfort, to no avail.

At last Genji arrived, knocking at his door, and he was allowed in at Hanzo’s curt command.

“Finally,” Hanzo snapped.

“Sorry, sorry,” Genji replied breezily, setting the tray with the soup bowl and spoon on the nightstand and handing his brother a little plastic cup of pills and a glass of water.  “Had to make the broth just right for you, I know you don’t like what’s already stocked in the pantry.”

“Thank you, Genji,” Hanzo eventually murmured after gulping down the glass of water.

Genji watched his brother sip at the steaming soup, relaxing once Hanzo gave him a brief rare nod of approval.  All that time practicing in the kitchens for Hanzo’s sake finally paid off, and he could not be more pleased to have cooked something edible that met his brother’s discerning tastes, considering, well, he was a cyborg now.

“Uh, you’re not taking the medicine?” Genji asked when it became clear Hanzo was ignoring the pills. 

“Yes.  Because… while I am ill,” Hanzo responded, somewhat reluctantly, “it is not a mere cold or infection.” Rubbing his forehead, Hanzo closed his eyes for a moment before saying, “Listen, Genji, swear to me that you do not speak a word of what I am about to tell you to anyone else.  Not even Angela.”

“I promise!” Genji replied, biolights flickering along his body with his eagerness.

“You break your promises,” Hanzo reminded him, though not rudely.  They both had broken promises.

“I swear I will tell no one, brother, upon my… uhh…” The word ‘honor’ did not seem appropriate to use in front of his brother at that exact moment so Genji forwent that route and said instead, “…spirit dragon.  Yeah.”  Fidgeting slightly in the awkward silence, he then asked, “But what am I supposed to be keeping secret?”

With a frown, Hanzo averted his eyes, staring at the bowl of soup in his lap.  Then he sighed and went back to eating, slurping the broth and chewing the noodles before they could get cold, sniffing pathetically every now and then.  Three minutes passed in this manner, and Genji’s nerves could not tolerate a second more of either the suspense or the sniffing.

“Anija!  Tell me, please, I’m dying here!” he begged, hating himself for breaking down, hating his brother for even holding it over him like that.

Hanzo seemed like he was about to smile in triumph, but his expression turned into a grimace of distress.  Hands trembling, he set the bowl and spoon down on the nightstand hurriedly while Genji swooped to his side in concern.

“What is it?  Are you hurt?  Are you about to throw up?  What should I do?”

“N-no, I just…”  With another shudder, Hanzo clutched at his shirt before restarting.  “I did not want to involve you, Genji, to have you see me like this.  But you are the only one who I can trust to help.”  Carefully, Hanzo lowered the collar of his gi, slipping it off his tattooed left shoulder.

Genji had been practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation of the grand reveal, but nothing could have prepared him for what he glimpsed through his visor screen. 

“Wh-what happened?” he gasped quietly, taking in the sight of a thick wad of wound dressing that his brother was peeling away from his chest.  It appeared thoroughly soaked, and yet there was no open wound, no evidence of sweat, not since the weather had been cool as of late.  But even as Genji spoke, he saw tiny beads of whitish liquid collect on Hanzo’s nipple, forming a drop that slowly dripped down tanned skin, and he had to blink several times to comprehend what he was observing.

“Are you… are you making…?”  It took a titanic effort to push out that final word.  “Milk?”

Shame-faced, Hanzo nodded.

Genji held his breath, trying to fight down the hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble up from his throat unbidden.  His brother was reaching out to him at last, after months of relentless coldness and criticism, he should not make light of this bizarre situation that was clearly causing him anguish.  Genji bit his lip, clenched his fists, tried to recall when the team was last scolded by Soldier. (Very recently.)  It helped a little.

“This must shock and disgust you, Genji.  If I had any other choice, I would… Please forgive me,” Hanzo ended unhappily.

“No!” Genji exclaimed, finding the strength to restrain his laughter in Hanzo’s unexpectedly humble apology.  “I mean, yes, it’s a surprise, but there’s no need to be sorry.  Thanks for telling me.  It must be really stressful for you, brother…” Genji’s voice trailed off as he followed the path of another drop of milk making its way over a noticeably swollen breast, only to be wiped away by the gauze.  He looked up, met Hanzo’s mortified gaze, and felt extremely grateful for the mask that hid his growing smile.  “So this explains this morning.  Your skin is sensitive and tender, and you feel the cold strongly because of that heat leaving your body?”

Hanzo nodded again, grateful for his brother’s swiftness in understanding.

“How long?”

“Just last night.”

“What about in the past?”  Now that he thought on it, Genji could recall Hanzo acting extra irritable as he went through puberty, which everyone had ascribed to the usual shifting hormones.  All this time, he thought he was just being a little bitch. 

“Sometimes,” Hanzo murmured in answer.  “But I am still your brother, nothing has changed in that regard if you were wondering.”  He paused to grab another handful of dressing from the bedside table drawer and wiped down his leaking nipple.  “I have not… lactated in years, I thought it stopped, so I had grown careless.  Fortunately, I still have the medication that corrects the chemical imbalance just in case.  But it does take a while to start working, and thus… in the meantime...”

“In the meantime?” Genji prompted after a few seconds.

A bright blush crept up over Hanzo’s face as he muttered something under his breath, and now Genji had to laugh.  “Hey, it’s not weird if I’m helping you out, just think of it like that.”  Genji perched on the bed, one leg dangling over the side, the other brushing against his brother’s hip.  He reached over to pat Hanzo’s cheek gently, saying, “It’ll be fine.  I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

“I suppose that must do for now,” Hanzo replied in a faint voice.  As shyly as a maiden, a bearded middle-aged muscle-bound maiden, Hanzo slipped the gi completely off his shoulders, exposing both of his pectorals to view.  Completely focused on the task at hand, Genji grasped a fresh wad of cotton in one hand and with the other hand, gently cupped and squeezed the tattooed left breast until a thin stream of milk was coaxed out, dampening the dressing with flooding warmth.  Hanzo bit his lip, his eyelids fluttering closed at the odd yet soothing sensation, making no other sound or movement as Genji continued to draw out his milk with skillful artificial fingers.

Before long, the bandage was soaked and dripping, and there was hardly enough left in the drawer to finish the one breast, much less both.  Genji tossed the used dressings into a trashcan nearby and then cocked his head at Hanzo, as if to ask, “now what.”

Distractedly, Hanzo glanced around his room, seeking a solution to this new problem.

“Hey… you know there are machines that can do this for you,” Genji suggested archly.

“Don’t even think about it!” Hanzo bristled at the possibility of someone finding such a device in the mail delivery to base, the ensuing chaos.  “There won’t be a next time, not if I can help it.”

“Aww, are you sure?  You seem like you are enjoying this.”

“Enjoy you pawing at my chest as if I was one of your numerous one night stands?  Hah.”  But Hanzo’s lingering half-smile seemed to indicate that he did like the sensation somewhat, if mostly to relieve the pressure building up in his tissues, or the stress of wondering if anyone would notice exactly why he had to cover both shoulders.  “Just help me think of something, Genji.  Please.”

Laughing, Genji detached his visor, looking at his worried brother with his own eyes for the first time in a while.  “Since you asked so nicely, I was gonna say, I got an even better solution than a machine.  More natural.”  He licked his lips suggestively, which as soon as he did so he thought it probably would have worked better if he still had the cute pouty lips of his youth and not whatever had survived near death and cyberization.

“You… That is absolutely disgusting, don’t do that again,” Hanzo growled, though he curiously did not say no outright.  “I mean… can you even swallow?  In that body…?”

“Sure I can!” Genji assured him with that same maddeningly confident posture McCree (or Junkrat for that matter) used right before it became obvious that they, in fact, could not.  “I don’t really need to eat that much, but everything still works, and I doubt I’ll get any internal damage from,” another chuckle here, “breast milk, of all things.  C’mon, Hanzo, I bet you I can get it all out faster with my mouth.”

“I have no doubt…”  Still, Hanzo hesitated, fingers clutching the bedspread as he considered his options.  A towel would suffice in place of the dressings, there were clean ones in the closet; on the other hand, the faster he could be milked, the better.  And considering Genji’s experience in his former life with similar activities…  “Very well.  If you are going to do it, then do it.”  Then barely audible, “I am not nearly drunk enough for this.”

“Then have a drink, relax, anija.  You’re always so stressed.”  A robotic hand appeared in front of Hanzo’s line of sight, holding his sake bottle, and he did not, could not, refuse the offer of that precious nectar, his favored remedy.  He gulped down almost the entire contents of the bottle quickly and handed it back to Genji.  But when his younger brother lifted the bottle to his lips, Hanzo stopped him with an unexpectedly steady grip on his wrist.

“There is no need, Genji.  You will be getting plenty to drink soon.”

Genji just about choked on air.

Well, the alcohol certainly was doing its part, but he knew this heat, this loosening, was only a temporary, superficial effect.  In the meantime, they might as well get this over with as quickly as possible.  “Now come here, little brother, do something a little more useful with that mouth of yours.”

“You bet,” Genji purred in reply, the motors responsible for his vocalization adding an extra buzz to the words.  He leaned over, bracing one hand on the mattress next to Hanzo’s thigh, tentatively ran his tongue over his brother’s chest to swipe up the offending droplets.  Though some of his senses had dulled during his body’s painstaking reconstruction, he could still discern a pleasant sweet taste in his mouth, a thicker, silkier texture than regular cow’s milk.  Latching his lips around Hanzo’s nipple, Genji flicked the stiffened swollen nub with his tongue experimentally and heard Hanzo catch his breath.  Of course he would be sensitive there, even more so now than before, and reeling from the intimate knowledge, Genji began to suck in earnest.  Steady trickles of milk splashed into his mouth, and he drank deeply, feeling the warmth spread through his cybernetically enhanced body, that felt almost as comforting as the obvious trust Hanzo was placing in him this evening.  Thirsty for more, Genji used his other hand to fondle the breast, massaging the taut, lush flesh under his palm until Hanzo began to sigh and shudder.  He sensed his brother’s fingers resting on the back of his skull, an encouraging touch, and he thought he could die happy like this, face buried in those spectacular breasts.

Breasts that were his brother’s.  But after all the strange things Genji had seen and the weird things he had endured, he decided he had no problem with this particular point.  As long as Hanzo was fine with it, he would certainly not complain.

When he could not suck any more milk out, the breast and nipple now back to their usual statuesque shape, Genji glanced up.

“My thanks, Genji, you did very well,” Hanzo murmured, his expression softened and blissful, strands of his dark hair falling out of the hair tie and around his flushed face.  Startled, Genji felt the blood rushing to his scarred cheeks all at once, and he made a questioning hum deep in his throat as his brother cupped his chin in one hand and smiled down at him.

A smile just for him.  How long had it been, Genji mused, glowing with pride in the light of Hanzo’s warm liquid gaze.  He had always looked scornful or irritated or guilty or all three ever since he had been recruited to Overwatch, doubly so during the rare private occasions Genji took off his visor and bared his ruined face.  This… this was new.

“All right, now for the other one,” Hanzo said in a brisk business-like tone, breaking the spell. 

“H-ha, you’re really giving my jaw a workout, anija,” Genji told him with a weak laugh, while Hanzo snorted, knowing full well this was just a light warm-up compared to some of Genji’s past all-night exploits.

Suddenly, something occurred to Genji, and he grinned.  “Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“I bet you McCree would totally go for this.”  Milk.  Cow-boy?  (Some mild reservations that Jesse had ever seen a real cow in the flesh or knew how to milk it.)

“Ugh,” Hanzo grumbled in distaste.  “I had just complimented you and now you had to ruin it.”

“What are you being pissy about?  He’s so into you, you should be flattered!”

“He is not into me, he is into what he thinks is my wardrobe malfunction.”

Chuckling, Genji shook his head.  “Hey, I explained it to him already, you need your arm free to draw and all that.  But really, why won’t you give him a chance?  I mean, not like you have a line out the door of people interested in you.” Immediately regretting that last part once he saw Hanzo flinch, Genji quickly added, “Anyway, McCree is the nicest, I can vouch for that.  He’d definitely treat you like a princess, if you’d let him.”

“I am not a princess!” Hanzo snapped, but he sounded a lot milder than expected considering his usual grouchiness.  “Genji, I don’t know why you insist on trying to set me up with him, who if you don’t remember, thought very poorly of me at first on account of what I’ve done to you, but it is getting tiresome.  Now stop talking nonsense and get to work.”  He gestured to his other breast, full and glistening and enticingly ready, and Genji promptly re-discovered that his salivary glands still worked at full capacity.

With barely restrained eagerness, Genji pushed Hanzo back onto the pillows until he was resting partly on his elbows, and began suckling the other breast, all the while a rumbling voice somewhere above his head warned him to be careful of his teeth.  As this side had been neglected for far longer, milk practically poured into Genji’s mouth as soon as he applied the lightest suction, and some of it dribbled out onto his chin and throat.  Not pausing to wipe it away, he continued working, hands automatically brushing over his brother’s muscular abdomen, squeezing and stroking his pectorals, fingers occasionally playing with the large dusky nipple not currently in between his lips.  Hanzo’s were so much firmer than the plump yielding breasts he recalled from his past, yet with a similar bouncy quality he could never get enough of.  They were perfect in every way, he decided, a connoisseur of such matters, as if he expected anything less from his older brother.

Soon enough, Genji was getting full, his underused stomach sloshing with warm liquid, an accompanying building pressure between his legs.  An unfamiliar sensation at first, and then all of a sudden, very familiar.

Just as a sound escaped his throat halfway between a gasp and a moan, Genji pulled away without warning, and a gush of milk splashed over his lower lip.

“…What is it, Genji?” Hanzo murmured, concerned at the interruption.  “Why are you stopping?”

The ravaged face tilted up, grey-brown eyes wide, lips shining with saliva and milk, and Hanzo felt his heartbeat jump and stutter in its rhythm.  Out of some instinctive drive, Hanzo found himself wiping Genji’s dripping chin with the sleeve of his gi, causing his younger brother to scrunch his nose as he tried to pull away from the firm grip on his ear.

“Anija!  S-stop!” Genji sputtered childishly in complaint, and Hanzo was immediately reminded of a memory he thought he had forgotten by now, when he was five years old, looking after his toddler brother just learning to eat solid foods, except that Genji had gotten his dinner all over himself and the table and floor instead of into his mouth, their mother later scolding him for using the sleeve of his priceless kimono to clean Genji up instead of a napkin, their father laughing.

His eyes grown fiercely hot, Hanzo let go abruptly.  “You are making a mess.”

“I just have to catch my breath first,” Genji grumbled.

Then Hanzo felt warm lips returning to their place over his nipple, sensed sharp teeth carefully pressing into his flesh, and he bit down a moan of pleasure.  The wet, squelching noises as his brother suckled sounded far too loud, too obscene, in his ears, but so utterly relaxed by the process, Hanzo could do little more than play with the delicate strands of garish green hair that peeked out of synthetic material.  How did he still bleach and dye it, he wondered idly, or maybe it now grows green due to science…  Probably radiation…  But it was comforting somehow, to know that despite how much Genji’s physical form had been altered, how much his personality matured and mellowed out due to that Omnic monk’s influence, something of the rebellious sparrow Hanzo had known still existed within the layers of metal and carbon and silicon.

When both breasts had been completely drained, Genji wiped at his mouth, bowed his head and said very reverently, “Thank you for the meal.”  Cracking open one eye, he caught Hanzo’s horrified glare attempting to mentally shoot arrows at him.

“Disrespectful!” Hanzo hissed.  Genji just laughed aloud.

Climbing up over his brother’s form, he draped himself delicately against Hanzo, his lights emitting a faint glow, his inner processors whirring quietly.  Hanzo did not recoil or turn away, as he often would after their dramatic reunion, in guilt and regret and self-hatred.  He only lowered his eyes.  Completely trusting, wholly content, around the only person left in the world he could bring down his defenses.

“Anija?  Are you feeling better now?”

Hanzo looked at him and nodded, causing his now loose hair to slide over his shoulders.  He was about to reach up to flick it back, but Genji had already beat him to it.

“You… look really good like this,” Genji murmured absentmindedly, flashing him that adoring smile Hanzo had not seen in years and did not realize he missed.

Hanzo lifted an eyebrow.  “Do I?”

“Must be the motherly glow.”

With an amused snort, Hanzo whacked him on the shoulder.  “Get off, Genji.  Time for you to go to your room.  I need to sleep.”  He turned off the bedside light and made to tug the blankets out from underneath them, intent on wrapping himself up.

“Wait, but you’re feeling cold now, aren’t you?”

“Yes. That is what blankets are for.”  Managing to free said blankets, he began to pull them over himself, but Genji was scrambling under the sheets alongside him as well.

“Why not use me, anija?” Genji all but whined.

“What?  Don’t vent your steam at my face.”  Something Genji could not always control, which Hanzo quickly learned to not stand next to him all the time.

“No, I mean, I’m all warm inside now.  Like a hot water bottle.  A hot milk bottle.”

Rolling his eyes, Hanzo gritted out, “Could you please stop pointing that out every 30 seconds?”

“I just want to stay with you, Hanzo.” Genji twined his arms around Hanzo’s neck, nuzzling his cheek, letting the bristly facial hair rub at his scars.  “Please?  We’ve been apart for so long, let me stay with you for a little longer.  You never talk to me anymore.”

“I’m talking right now,” Hanzo was about to say, but he thought of his little brother, enduring a painful transformation after being nearly killed by his sibling, obliged to work alongside murderers to take down his own clansmen, leaving to find enlightenment with the Omnics but not with a distrustful humanity…  The very same humanity for whom he had given up his clan and thus his life.  What a cruel fate.  And yet here he was, trying his best to bring his brother into the fold of his new, absolutely deranged and yet somehow lovable family.

How could he refuse Genji anything now?

Tentatively, Hanzo nudged Genji’s cheek with his own.  To his surprise, he felt so, so warm, and he realized how long it had been since he had held someone this close.  (*Who wasn’t being choked on a garrote and bleeding out, anyway.)  Hanzo had assumed Genji’s synthetic body would be kept at room temperature or cooler to prevent overheating, but glancing at Genji’s face, he realized this was flesh and blood that he shared with their mother and father smiling up at him, as if they were children settling into bed waiting for father to start a new bedtime story.

“Very well, you may stay with me as long as you like, Genji,” he said, not even bothering to hide his own smile now.  “Talk to me about whatever you want.”

For a few minutes, there was a soft sweet silence between them, just a whisper of sound as Genji hugged him tighter until Hanzo complained that his armor was digging into his side.

“I can’t take it off, I’ll be naked.  What if someone attacks?  I have to be ready to defend your virtue.”  But Genji adjusted himself anyway, sliding down slightly until he was resting his cheek against Hanzo’s shoulder.

“Hey, Hanzo,” Genji whispered.

“Yes?”

“I have a little money saved up, why don’t I order you a nursing bra?”

“No.”

A beat of silence.  “Hanzo?”

“What is it, Genji?” Hanzo muttered, already cursing the remnants of kindness in his heart that somehow forgot how annoying Genji could be around the clock.

“What if it’s because one of your dragons is female and that’s why you’re, you know… lactating?”

Reigning in his exasperation, Hanzo exhaled through his nose, then said, “Don’t be stupid.  The dragons are genderless spiritual manifestations of the Shimada bloodline.  And even if one or both of mine were female… they would be laying eggs, right?”

“Uhh… I guess?”

It had been a while since either brother had taken a biology class.

“So milk has nothing to do with it, I am sure.  Because they are not mammals.”

A very long while.

“Hmm… okaaaay.”

About two minutes later, Hanzo felt Genji’s chest move to take a breath and he briefly wished he had not drunken all the alcohol already because apparently whatever got into his systems was only making Genji more talkative and hyperactive.  He probably will start kicking soon.

“Hey Hanzo.  Hanzo.”  A little quieter.  “Hanzooooo…”

“This better be important,” Hanzo muttered.

“I was just thinking we are all wrapped up in the blankets like a sushi roll.  A dragon roll, heh heh.”

Hanzo opened his eyes and stared at Genji who just shrugged.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

“No.  Well, maybe.  You said to talk to you.  I just… can’t think of anything to say.”  They had ten years of conversation to catch up on, but for Genji, somehow nothing came to mind.

“Maybe you can start by telling me… why you are practically naked all the time.”  This seemed like as good of a topic to discuss as Genji’s random babbling so far.  After all, Genji had been very fashionable as a young man, and while the white armor plating looked cool, it was nothing like the trim uniform Hanzo had seen him don in that photo he showed off from when he first joined Overwatch.

“I’m wearing my headscarf!” Genji exclaimed.

Hanzo’s elegantly raised eyebrow conveyed his disbelief with utmost eloquence.

“I guess… budgetary reasons?”

“You are telling me Overwatch has enough money to purchase unlimited ammunitions and the latest technology and medicines, but not enough money to buy you clothes?”

“Hey, I have no idea how much it costs to run a team of elite heroes!  Anyway, it’s just more convenient and aerodynamic, wearing clothing would overheat my processors too quickly.”

“Hmm…”  He would speak to the ones in charge about that, surely Mercy would be able to confirm this.

“Why are you asking?”  With a smug chuckle, Genji continued, “Are you jealous that everyone can see my totally hot almost nude body all the time? Still better than yours, by the way.”

“First of all,” Hanzo retorted heavily, “you are completely wrong on all accounts.  Secondly, I just… don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“I can’t get sick, but fine,” Genji conceded.  “When I get you a nursing bra, I’ll get myself a hoodie, too.”

“All right, we’re done here,” Hanzo grumbled.  “Get out of my bed, Genji.  Go sleep in your own room.”

Hanzo attempted to untangle his quietly screaming little brother from his limbs, but as they were cocooned in layers of sheets and blankets, this became a lot more difficult than his still weak and drained body could manage.  After a brief struggle, he somehow managed to end up with Genji attaching himself even more tightly than before, and so with a loud sigh, Hanzo gave up.

“You win.”

“Yes!”

Not even bothering to respond, Hanzo just turned on his side, sniffing, while Genji wrapped an arm comfortingly over his torso and tangled their legs together.

“Is your nose still running, anija?  Yeah?  You know what’s a good cure for a runny nose?”

Hanzo remained quiet, hoping that Genji would think he had fallen asleep.  That had never worked before, but maybe in his altered form…

“Sex.”

The vein throbbing at his temple returned full strength, but with all of the discipline he had developed through years of training, Hanzo managed to keep silent.

“McCree is probably still awake, want me to get him?”

But Genji was a little brother, and little brothers always know what buttons to press.  Hanzo could not even fake a snore, he was so indignant.

Genji had always had a second sense for knowing how far to push Hanzo, yet he chose not to tease him any further.  “Kidding, I’m not gonna.  You’re right, of course, McCree had every reason to distrust you; as my friend, he took my side on everything.  But it didn’t matter what he thought he knew, the moment he first saw you, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.  He told me later he couldn’t help it, you were the prettiest person he’d ever seen.”  A snicker, breath warm against Hanzo’s spine.  “I told him he had bad taste.”

Hanzo almost nodded, then realized he would be insulting himself and refrained. 

“I think he’s for real.  No, I know he is.  He adores you, would do anything for you, to make you smile and laugh.”  Genji’s voice began to lower, barely audible.  “He knows all about your past, our past, he’s even endured the same.  Please, just give him a chance, anija, you deserve a little happiness, too, despite what you think.”  Even softer now, the edges of the words smoothing and resonating together.  “I want you to be happy.  He’d do that for you.  He will make you whole.”  A long silence, so lengthy, Hanzo thought Genji might have fallen asleep. 

Then Genji’s voice drifted up over his shoulder, hollow and bittersweet, far more than he had ever sounded as a human.  “Even if you scorned him forever, it would not change his feelings.  Even if he died, and all of his molecules were destroyed beyond recognition, still the atoms of his body would search for yours to be with you through all of space and time.  You were meant to be… it was written in the stars, don’t you think?  Anija?”

There were twin spots of hot wetness pressed against his shoulderblades that he could feel sliding down onto the sheets to pool beneath their bodies.  Still he said nothing. There was just nothing to say about something he, the two of them, had known for a very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhh, ok, I was totally planning on just a funny one liner epilogue, but thought I might as well go all in, brofuck or bust. Hah. Bust. Anyway, so there's no real plot planned, just me fucking around, some weird and sad stuff (wad), me negging on McCree even though I live in actual cowboy land and have no right to criticize him whatsoever

Genji had no idea how long he had been asleep, having regained consciousness gradually, greeted by the broad expanse of his brother’s back in front of him.  For one disorienting moment, he thought they were children again, sleeping together after he had forsaken his own bed due to some nightmare and sought out Hanzo’s comforting presence instead.  But as it always eventually did, the overwhelming realization that he now lived in a body not all his own soon caught up to him, and the breath stuck labored and distressed in his throat during the next few bewildered heartbeats.  In his panic, Genji crushed his face up against Hanzo’s back, hugging him tighter, reaching out for a solid anchor in something (almost) familiar.

“…Genji?  Are you having a nightmare?” Hanzo mumbled, too sleepy to sound irritable just yet.

He shook his head, feeling like he was seven years old again in his older brother’s presence.  It did not matter that he turned 35 recently; he was always a child around Hanzo, likely always will be.

With a little effort, Hanzo wriggled onto his other side so that the brothers faced each other, then brought Genji into a tight embrace.  “I’m here, Genji, it’s all right.”

That had not comforted him much as a scared child, certain that shadow monsters were about to eat his fingers and toes one by one.  But it meant everything to him now, to have his brother say what he longed for the most.  With a sigh, Genji rested his cheek against Hanzo’s bare chest, breathing in his scent, a nostalgic potent memory that overpowered the weak smells of the world around him that could not register through his reworked nerves.  It may have just been a trick of the mind, but Genji always fancied that Hanzo smelled like the past; feathers, an inkstone, ozone in the air after a spring storm passed through Hanamura, or at least something similar through the ever-present aroma of sake (and now milk.)

“Thank you, anija…” he whispered, but Hanzo had already fallen asleep.

For a few minutes Genji watched him, the crease of worry between Hanzo’s thick brows easing slightly.  He wondered what his brother dreamed of.  Did he dream of their childhood, all candy and laughter and sakura petals? Or did he, like Genji had in the past, before Zenyatta, still dream instead of that blackest day, slashed with blood and dragon’s roar?

Whatever Hanzo dreamed of, it soon roused him from his dozing.

“Genji,” he murmured tersely, “I have to go.”  Blinking wearily, Hanzo maneuvered the covers down and shrugged into his gi, tying the belt loosely around his waist.

“Go where?”

“Bathroom.”

Of course.  He sometimes forgot that others needed to do that. Instantly awake and alert, Genji reached for his visor.  “I should go with you, anija.”

“Fine.  Stand guard outside for me.”

On noiseless feet, the two of them snuck out into the hallways, though it was 3 am and no one would be awake to interrupt.  It was only a short journey to the bathing facilities, yet below Genji’s breastbone, dread and excitement warred for superiority. 

“Just like old times.”  Hanzo flashed him a smirk brimming over with mischief and Genji almost let out a shriek of nervous laughter.

But after ten minutes of standing by the entrance and he did not hear the sound of water running, Genji began to get nervous.  Did something happen to Hanzo?  He had to go check. 

Peeking around the corner to the lavatories, he glimpsed the silver flash of Hanzo’s metallic legs in one of the stalls and glided over.

“Anija?” he whispered, and heard the sound of Hanzo cursing quietly.

“What are you doing?!”

“What’s taking so long?”  Then he remembered. Hanzo was very… shy when it came to the matter of using the facilities, preferring to go alone if possible.  Even Genji’s presence could be too stressful.

“I was almost finished before you interrupted.”  There was a rustle of fabric, the flush of water, and another soft curse before Hanzo emerged.  Genji was about to turn on his heel to resume his lookout but glimpsed out of the corner of his eye Hanzo disrobing. 

“Are you still drunk?!” he hissed in growing horror.

“I thought I saw a stain.  Have to rinse it out before it sets in.”  With all the fastidiousness of a germophobe and neat-freak, Hanzo, clad only in rather modern cut boxer briefs, gathered his gi and hakama and went to the sink to inspect them.  Genji kept an eye on the doorway but fortunately, so far no one had been woken by the sound of his activity.

“Is this the appropriate time, really?” he thought in consternation when Hanzo set his damp clothes out to dry on a bench and then wandered to the showers.  Genji could not bear to imagine what would happen if Hanzo slipped and hit his head in his apparently still sleepy/drunk state, and so he abandoned his post and followed after his brother.  To protect him.

While Hanzo showered, Genji ran a finger over the gi, the hakama, lingering over the boxers.  It was terribly tempting, and the more he tried to ignore the urge, the more his curiosity grew.  He had just leaned over to take the boxers in hand when he saw Hanzo poke his head out of the stall, and he straightened up with a guilty jerk.

“When was the last time you cleaned yourself?” Hanzo whispered, voiced pitched just enough to carry over the sound of running water.

“Uh, it rained on me recently, I think.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Hanzo beckoned his little brother over.  “Get in here right now.”

“Aww… do I have to?”  Secretly, Genji had wanted to smell like Hanzo a little while longer.

Hanzo’s eyes widened in that familiar expression of “Yes, you have to.”

They were not biggest men on the team, but there was only enough space in the shower for them to stand facing each other.  At first Genji tried to keep his gaze anywhere else than on his naked and dripping wet brother, but then remembered no one could tell exactly where he was looking behind his mask anyway and so just stared to his heart’s content.  Too bad it was kind of dark to see much detail and also Hanzo was scrubbing very fiercely at his armored body with a bar of soap and a brush the whole time.

“Ow, not so hard,” Genji complained.  “You’ll wreck my paint job.”

“I should have cleaned you weeks ago, don’t the Omnics have some sort of cleaning protocol?”

Genji had to laugh at the mental image of Zenyatta and Bastion getting waxed and detailed; however, he could not recall ever seeing anyone else maintain them.  “They probably have a self-cleaning button or something, but I don’t have one.”

“Turn around,” Hanzo commanded and commenced washing Genji’s back, letting the water rinse the suds away after he was done.  “Do your own legs, I can’t reach.”

“Want me to do your back, anija?”

“No, I’m fine.”  With a frown, Hanzo folded his arms across his chest defensively. 

“…Wait, did you hear that?”  Without warning, Genji dropped the soap and brush and set his hands on Hanzo’s shoulders, who made a spluttering noise in his surprise.  It was slippery, but he managed to get enough of a boost from Hanzo to grip the shower head and haul himself to the top of the shower.  Hanging partway over the wall separating each stall, Genji strained the limits of his visual and audio sensors to discover the source of the sound while below, Hanzo turned off the water.

Once satisfied that they would remain unnoticed, Genji slipped back down, not very accidentally kicking Hanzo in the side of the head in the process.

“It was Soldier,” he reported under his breath.  “He sleepwalks around the base sometimes.  Don’t try to wake him up, Angela told me you could kill him that way.  Or he could kill you. I forgot which.”

“I see…”  Hanzo was about to follow up but then he sneezed, which for all of its stifled quality, sounded very loud in the empty room.

“Shit, let me get you a towel,” Genji muttered, slipping out of the shower and to the lockers.  He found Hanzo’s locker, opened the lock with ease (fifteen years and he still used the same combination) and grabbed two ridiculously soft and fluffy towels from inside. 

“Thank you,” Hanzo told him, wrapping one towel around himself and using the other to dry Genji off, even though he was almost dry by now.  Genji just laughed and took the towel away, draping it over Hanzo’s sopping hair.

“C’mon, let’s get back to bed.”

 

* * *

 

 

They had made it back to Hanzo’s room without anyone the wiser, more than ready to cram in a few more hours of sleep before the waking world required their presence again.  But before Genji could even try to slip into bed with him, Hanzo stopped him with a hand to the chest.  Swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress, he sat up and peered at the masked visor sternly.

“Can you not take your armor off?  It… bothers me.”

“I told you, I can’t,” Genji said.   “I don’t know how.”

“What do you mean?” He hadn’t had the armor since his body’s creation, Hanzo was certain.  “Surely there is a way, it’s not welded to your body… is it?”

Shrugging, Genji replied, “Maybe.  Never tried to take it off myself.  I wasn’t awake when they put it on me the first time. I might have uh, fainted.”

Hanzo made a tsking noise under his breath.  No surprise there - Genji had been an accomplished killer by the age of sixteen and yet every time, asked to be put under when getting a tiny cavity filled at the dentist.  “Well, let me take a look.  Perhaps I can discover something,” he said as Genji stepped closer.  Hanzo ran his hands over where his brother’s collarbones would be, his chest, fingers grazing over the center circular indention.  No response.  Continued down his abdomen, nails digging delicately along the edge where the white metal alloy interlocked with the material that made up Genji’s form proper.  Finding nothing useful, Hanzo cautiously reached around the cyborg’s back, forcing Genji to crowd in between Hanzo’s boxer clad legs.  By now the barely audible hum of cybernetics had deepened in tone, almost vibrating under his fingertips.

Genji let out a breathless giggle while Hanzo went down each ridge of his spinal column starting from the base of his neck, dark eyes locked on the dim glow of the visor.  “That’s a plug,” Genji informed him as he touched between the shoulder blades.  “All of those.”

“Hmm, and this one?  Seems promising,” Hanzo murmured, lingering over the bottom most knob on his lower back.

“That’s a magnet,” Genji managed to choke out.

“Then… is that all?”  Hanzo let his hands rest on Genji’s hipbones, not especially encouraged to try anywhere else.

“Yeah.”  After a pause, Genji added gently, “Sorry for disappointing you again, anija.”

“It’s not your fault.”  Lowering his gaze, Hanzo sighed.  It had been a silly thought to hope that Genji could take off his armor, that he could cast off the accoutrements that marked him as a warrior and soldier, that he could live as normal a human life as possible someday in the future.  But they brought him back from the brink of death to destroy his own clan, to serve their purposes in repayment for the time and money they put into his body.  They certainly did not create him to retire peacefully on a farm somewhere.  Presumably, Genji would live forever, having transformed into a true dragon of the winds, while Hanzo would eventually grow old and die, taking his own dragons into the afterworld with him to meet the scorn and jeers of his honorable ancestors.  Shaking his head, Hanzo almost laughed in bitterness.  Genji had become the sole heir of the Shimada bloodline after all, not him.  All of that sibling rivalry ended up for nothing.

He should have guessed.  Genji had always been everyone’s favorite.

Swallowing his self-hatred, Hanzo made an effort to inspect Genji’s arms, glancing concernedly over the plating slightly dented and scratched from various past missions.  With some distaste, he even prodded at the synthetics, taking in the unusual tough-elastic striated texture, the color that reminded him of a cut of meat from the butcher left in the refrigerator too long.  But other than where the shuriken reloaded, his brother’s cyborg form revealed nothing new to his blurry vision.  And why was Genji vibrating so damn much?

“Anija… Hanzo?  Hanzo… can you look at me?”  When Genji finally put his hands on either side of Hanzo’s face, he realized it was he who was shaking, shuddering violently with shallow breaths and cramped stomach from holding back such overwhelming emotions.

“I’m sorry.  I must really gross you out now, huh?” Genji murmured, letting his hands drop away.

That wasn’t it at all, he wanted to say, if the words had not stuck in his throat.  Taking a calming breath, Hanzo let out a soft snort and shook his head.  “No more than I to you,” he tried to retort, but it just sounded pathetic and snively instead.

“Yeah, you got that right.”  But Genji’s laugh sounded sadder, emptier than it should, and he let Hanzo rest his heated face against the coolness of his armor without further comment.

When Hanzo finally found the courage to look up, he saw that Genji had removed his faceplate, a shy smile in place of blank white metal.  In silence, he let Genji take him to bed.  Under the darkness of the sheets, they wrapped around each other like children who had no one else in the world to hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Ok, McCree ended up not showing in this chapter. Neither did the incest milkies. I'm really good at this lmao)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this titty-llating chapter. Even included some incest milkies this time. Could not fit McCree in though. (That’s what she said!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Anyway, thanks for the kudos, I really appreciate them, although you may wish there was a way to retract them after reading this lmao.)

From the angle of the sun filtering through the windows and onto his face, Hanzo could tell he should have woken hours ago.  But the comfort of a warmed bed was far too inviting, and surely meditation or early morning training could wait another hour.  Hanzo curled even deeper into the seductive softness of the pillows, only to bump his forehead against something hard.  Genji’s forehead protector.  Squinting through his lashes, he glimpsed Genji’s smile, or a fairly decent approximation thereof, and tried his best to not grin in return, pretending he was still asleep.  Either his brother fell for it, or didn’t care, and he began toying with a loose strand of Hanzo’s hair.  Still very close, so their noses almost touched, and Hanzo could feel Genji’s faint breath fanning against his cheek.  It soon became clear to him that Genji was leaning in ever closer in what could only be a reenactment of one of his most annoying childhood taunts, in which he would see just how close he get to touching Hanzo without actually making contact while Hanzo screamed at their parents to make Genji stop touching him and their father finally yelled back that he was going to make the limo driver turn around to take them home if they don’t stop messing around and then the driver did make a sharp u-turn and Genji ended up almost poking Hanzo’s eye out and suddenly everyone was yelling and no one got to go to the opera which turned out for the best as there had been several Russian assassins waiting at the concert hall to kill them.

Not wanting to get a finger jabbed into his eye regardless of whether or not it would save his life in the next thirty minutes, Hanzo preemptively murmured, “Genji.”

Caught in the act, Genji froze.  Then he said cheerfully, “Anija, your pores look amazing!  What is your secret?”

“What exactly were you doing?”  It seemed that Genji’s eyeball-poking fingers were not actually anywhere near his face, so he felt unsure of his little brother’s intent.

“Looking at your pores, I just said.”

Snorting, Hanzo narrowed his eyes at Genji suspiciously.  “What time is it?” he asked instead.

“It’s almost nine.”

“We should get up… soon.” 

“Ooooor we could stay in bed all day, that sounds way better.”

It sounded like the best idea Genji had yet, and Hanzo would have liked nothing more than stay nestled in the pillows and blankets for the rest of the morning.  At least he made an effort to throw the covers back and stretch a little despite the overwhelming sensation of lethargy that had stolen over his limbs.  Genji got up on one elbow, watching him fondly, but then reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Anija!  Umm… Y-your… chest.”

“My… what?”  Hanzo glanced down to where Genji was pointing at his pectorals. 

If anything, they had grown even bigger in the past five hours, and there were slick wet areas around his swollen nipples that would certainly have created similar damp spots on the sheets.  In his distress, Hanzo could not even formulate a response for several seconds.

“What happened?  Did the medicine not work?” Genji asked, eyes wide.

“I, I don’t know!  It is possible,” Hanzo whispered harshly.  That seemed the most likely explanation, that he needed a higher dose since the last time he lactated several years ago, his body having undergone physical changes which would call for adjustments.  But he had never regressed so quickly after a dose, to such an extent.  His breasts felt so heavy and full, though not as painful as they felt yesterday, his nipples quickly stiffening in the cooler air of the room, almost stinging with the need to be milked.  As he sat up, he could just feel milk dribbling out, and he winced in embarrassment.

“What should we do?”

_We?_   Hanzo shook his head, rummaged through the table drawer for his medicine, swallowed the little white tablet dry, hoping it would work soon.

“The team is expecting me to have recovered from a cold by now,” Hanzo said, remembering McCree’s words from yesterday.  “If they realize that I am still… unavailable, Angela would want to give me a check-up.  I can’t, we can’t let them know.”

“So you don’t want Angela’s help at all?  She could make it go away, you know.”

“No, don’t… don’t tell her anything, Genji.”  How could he explain to Genji, who loved and trusted the members of Overwatch implicitly?  He did not want to accept Zenyatta’s counseling, or Angela’s medical treatments, or McCree’s healing of what can only be described as a sexual nature (if his brother were to be believed, anyway.)  Hanzo was here for Genji and Genji alone.  To depend on anyone else outside of the battlefield, for any reason other than to protect his brother… he refused to expose his vulnerabilities, to give them any reason to believe he would be a liability to Overwatch.  He could not bear the thought of them possibly separating him from Genji, not again.  The less they knew, the better, and perhaps he could cling to what little pride he still retained.  “Not now.  Maybe if it does not improve, possibly…”

“All right,” Genji murmured.  “I understand, you want your privacy.  For now, shall I…?”  He made to duck down towards Hanzo’s breasts, lips parted, ready for a repeat of last night.

Hanzo shook his head no, tried to push his eager brother’s face away from his chest.  “Genji, stop.”  He felt a little remorseful seeing the genuine disappointment in Genji’s eyes, but soldiered on.  “I think you doing that may have made it worse.”  It was a guess, but so far his best theory.

“Then what else can we do?  You’re starting to leak all over the bed, anija.”

Unable to think of anything through the overwhelming desire to nurse, to be eased by the sensation of suckling, Hanzo remained silent.

Sensing Hanzo’s mental turmoil, Genji offered gently, “Okay, what about I just… try to uh, drain you for now so we can assure the others you’re okay?  Then we can figure something out later.”

Hanzo nodded, and through stuffy ears, listened to his brother’s advice, letting Genji slip behind him.  He felt Genji’s plated body press snugly against his back, easing him slightly up onto his knees.  Hanzo dropped forward onto one hand spread flat on the mattress, the other hand grasping for support at Genji’s arm around his torso.

“It’s okay, anija.  I got you,” Genji murmured close to Hanzo’s ear, making him shudder.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips once Hanzo felt Genji’s fingers work at a leaking nipple, though he made a disapproving sound when he realized that the milk was being collected into the empty water glass. 

“Hey, better than soaking the sheets and getting weird looks at the laundry machines,” Genji explained.

Hanzo rolled his eyes, complaining under his breath, “This right here is already weird.”

“Yeah, no shit, really weird.”  Grinning, Genji pushed the tip of his metal chinguard into a ticklish spot on Hanzo’s shoulder, making him chuckle despite his anxiety.  “But it’ll be fine.”

For a few peaceful minutes, Hanzo relaxed bit by bit as the milk was drawn out of his breasts, the sound of the stream of liquid hitting the glass almost soothing in its rhythm.  He closed his eyes, breathing through his nose, still a little unnerved by his wayward body’s demands yet comforted that his little brother was being quiet and helpful for once.  It was very possible Genji was also collecting blackmail material for later, but Hanzo found that hard to believe.  By the smiles Genji kept pressing against his ear, his neck, the encouraging comments he kept whispering now and then.

“You’re doing good, anija.  Just a little more.”  Then Genji accidentally squeezed his pectoral too hard and Hanzo let out a low moan that he could not stifle in time.  Both brothers paused for a few tense heartbeats.

“Did that feel good, anija?” Genji asked, his voice buzzing uncertainly.

Red-faced, Hanzo slowly nodded, grateful they were not facing each other.

“Want me to do it again?”

Swallowing the dryness in his throat, Hanzo creaked out, “Please.  Do it harder like that.  And faster.”

“Oh… okay.  Yeah, I can do that.”

The glass was almost full now, about to slosh over the rim, and noticing, Hanzo plucked it out of Genji’s hand to set it aside.  “Genji, hurry,” he muttered urgently, and with a sharp inhalation, his brother began kneading his breasts with quick tugs and squeezes, letting the remaining milk splash all over the blanket despite his previous attempt to keep it clean.  The texture of Genji’s reconstructed fingertips, his palms brushing against sensitized skin was just the perfect friction that he craved, and Hanzo could not help arching into the touch, hips angling higher.

“A-anija…” Genji breathed out in a harried tone.  “Don’t… don’t do that.”  The last word trailed off into a gurgled groan as Hanzo did exactly that.

It felt good, too good.  Hanzo ran a hand through his hair, pushing slightly damp locks to the side, wondering when he had started sweating, when Genji started heating up again.  His brother’s body, solid, warm, perfectly fitted hovering above him, like he was built for this.

Even after he had finished draining the last few drops, Genji did not stop fondling his chest, pressing his mouth sloppily against the nape of Hanzo’s neck over and over.

“Genji… you can stop now.”  If he persisted, Hanzo could not be sure how his body would react.  Already, he felt on the edge, hot and jittery, nerves awash with electricity, the opposite of what he expected after being milked.  “You’re hurting me.”

“Sorry,” Genji replied thickly, letting go, while Hanzo drooped in his arms.  They were both breathing hard, despite having not actually done anything strenuous.  Out of nowhere, Genji laughed, so that Hanzo could feel the vibrations of the sound through the plating of his body transfer into his own.  “I got carried away.  But it was fun.  Haven’t done anything like that in a while.”

Hanzo craned his neck to stare at him, trying to discern if Genji was joking around or not.  He decided on saying, “Let us never speak of this again.”

“I would die a second time before I tell anyone… how amazingly hot you look right now.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow.  He felt like a sticky, disheveled mess, certain he must appear ten times worse; on the other hand, Genji had been the type to describe anything as sexy, including and not limited to plain kitchen tile.

“Because I’ve been telling everyone how ugly you look?”

Now he narrowed his eyes.

“Well, it would be weird for me to suddenly go back on like 8 years of dissing you.”

This could easily go on for another hour, Genji trying to be a smart mouth while Hanzo tried to take apart every nonsense thing he said.  More than anything, Hanzo wanted to go back to sleep, but not on wet, milk-infused sheets.  He vaguely wondered if Genji knew how to work a washer or dryer, but decided to not risk Overwatch headquarters exploding (for apparently not the first time) and depend on the spare set of sheets and blankets instead.

“You should go report to Angela and let her know I have mostly recovered,” Hanzo said at last, settling onto the driest spot on the mattress.  “Before McCree tries to break down my door or something ridiculous.”

Genji nodded.  “Right, good idea.”  He reached over to the night stand, angling for the glass full of breast milk, noticed Hanzo’s murderous glare and smoothly retrieved his visor before his brother could strangle him.  “Uhh… I’ll be right back!”  And he slipped out of the room like a shadow, but more white and neon green and not black like an actual shadow.

Frowning at the unsettling knowledge that he was handling his own bodily fluids, Hanzo considered emptying the glass in a sink or toilet in the lavatories, but he could not risk anyone seeing him in the hallway holding a glass full of milk, knowing that he (along with half the team) was lactose intolerant, and they could not get almond milk shipped to the base without great expense, which he didn’t even like the taste of.  There was no way anyone could guess the truth; still, he dared not even raise the possibility in their minds.  After deciding against throwing it out the window, he sighed and emptied the glass into his sake bottle to dump out later.

While waiting for Genji to return, he cleaned himself off as best as he could, put on a fresh change of clothes, leaving the left side of his gi up for now despite his chest having returned to normal, then went about switching out the sheets and blankets and pillowcases.  Carefully, Hanzo folded the stained bedclothes into a compact and not-suspicious pile to be washed and/or burned to ashes.  He had just finished combing out the tangles in his hair and was debating tying it back up when he saw something red flash in his peripheral vision.  Glancing at his reflection in a small mirror, Hanzo realized with horror that Genji had left a mark on his neck, clearly visible at the juncture of his shoulder and throat, where his gi did not cover.  The entire time, Hanzo had not noticed or cared what Genji was doing with his mouth, but… he could not go out in public like this.  People would assume things, Genji was the only one with him throughout the night, they weren’t all the idiots he sometimes insisted they were.  For now, Hanzo left his hair down, hoping it would partially conceal the mark before he was able to borrow some skin cream from Hana to more fully hide the evidence.

Fifteen minutes, then twenty.  Hanzo hoped nothing had gone wrong with Genji checking in with the others, he probably was just chatting now.  Trying to not worry, Hanzo attempted to get in some meditating before the usual noisy bedlam that marked a regular day at Watchpoint, but even as he cleared his mind, focused on his breathing, it only made him more aware of every single place where Genji had kissed him.  He could feel the teeth marks and blossoming bruises burn like glowing brands on his skin, tattoos of guilty scarlet.  He thought that everyone would surely see each one even if he wore a giant hooded fur coat like one of Mei’s.  He mentally cursed Genji for his carelessness, his little brother apparently learned little in the way of propriety or restraint after his journey of self-acceptance or whatever.

But despite all that, Hanzo could not stop himself from tracing the marks with his fingers, to memorize how they felt before they faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is the weirdest thing I have ever written, I'll tell you what, also I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm sure it's not even remotely lore compliant. But... I really needed to share lactose intolerance headcanons. It's very important that Genji is not lactose intolerant like Hanzo (and most Asians), and even if he was, he currently doesn't have bowels to empty. Okay. On that sexy note... I hope you stick around for more avoidance of actual brofucks!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, a whole lotta McCree is here but not the lactation, clearly I can only do one at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have good “mammaries” of the previous 3 chapters because now I’m just writing the juicy drama that I want to read but am too lazy to find the fics that explain it gooder. The milkies/brofucks will return in like 2 more chapters. Also I ran out of good boob puns.

As soon as he stepped outside of Hanzo’s room and closed the door, Genji let out his breath in a shivering sigh, and the vents along his shoulders and hips released puffs of steam that dissipated up into the air.  He had not meant to get carried away like that; sure, he was always teasing Hanzo, sometimes affectionately and sometimes a bit more maliciously, then and now as siblings do.  But he shouldn’t have tried to test the limits of Hanzo’s temper, not when he was clearly suffering.  He shouldn’t have taken advantage of his vulnerable state, definitely shouldn’t have made him feel awkward when he knew how much Hanzo hated being touched. 

On the other hand, Hanzo would have said no if he did not want Genji to continue touching him… right? It was his most-used word when they were kids, after all.  If Genji hadn’t known better, he would have thought Hanzo didn’t mind the attention, the touching and cuddling, he had even said it felt good.  Recalling that last instance, Genji put his hands to his mask out of habit more than anything and giddily released another curl of steam.  But in his heart, he knew the truth: Hanzo was at his wit’s end worrying about his condition, he needed Genji’s help because they were related and he did not know the others well enough to entrust them with his secret.  For any other instance, in any other situation, Hanzo would not have allowed Genji to stay so near.  He distrusted the Omnics as most of the Japanese did after the war, and so he found Genji’s cyborg body offputting and unsettling.  (Of course, Genji couldn’t blame him, he had only just recently come to terms with his altered form after several years, though he had secretly hoped Hanzo would have accepted him by now instead of making cruelly targeted jabs.)

Though it was difficult to acknowledge, Genji had just been extremely lucky he could indulge his desire to be held by his brother last night.  He had done right making the most of the situation because he might never get the chance again, knowing how reserved Hanzo had always been, how suspicious he was now.  Like a fool, Genji had kept putting it off back when he had been the carefree playboy younger heir of the Shimada clan, thinking there’d always be tomorrow, until one night there almost wasn’t.  So getting to reconcile with his brother after years of unhappy estrangement, for both to come to trust and depend on each other, at least to the point of taking care of something unexpected like Hanzo’s lactation, that was victory enough… right? 

He should be thankful.

Making his way to the common room, Genji tried his best to act normally, greeting the few stragglers from breakfast with his normal polite cheerfulness.  Beneath his mask however, his cheeks continued to burn as if he had consumed several drinks (granted, always a possibility after prolonged contact with Hanzo’s alcohol-loaded miasma), and his legs wobbled treacherously, his semi artificial heart kept fluttering restlessly despite its pacemaker.  It was almost a relief to not see Angela with the others, Genji did not think he could speak at length without giving away something best kept between himself and his brother to the rest of the team.

After a few minutes dawdling with extreme casualness in the common room, Genji went on his way and was able to find the doctor in the infirmary and give her a report on Hanzo’s status in blessed privacy.

“He hasn’t had a vacation in a while, I think he is just milking his sickness to have an excuse to stay in bed.”  Genji was very proud of his voice not cracking in the middle of that sentence, which it shouldn’t be able to, but as the events of the last 24 hours proved, anything can happen.  “But he seems healthy otherwise.  I am sure he will want to get back to training by the end of the day today.”

“I am very glad to hear that,” Angela said, something of a relieved smile lightening her expression.  “Thanks for checking in with me, Genji, and for looking after your brother.  Hanzo seems to be on his own so much of the time, I was concerned.  But I suppose that means there is little risk of him infecting anyone else.”

“Trust me, there is no way he could have infected anyone,” Genji assured her.

“Well, everyone seemed in excellent health this morning, so there is probably nothing to worry about.”  Tapping onto a keyboard, Angela peered at the screens thoughtfully, then added, “However, I will need to perform a physical on Hanzo soon, his medical records are incomplete.  I don’t believe he has ever seen me in my office, not even once.  Could you let him know to contact me about an exam sometime, within the next week if possible?”

“I can let him know, though I doubt he would agree to one.”  Definitely not anytime soon.  Or ever.

“Oh, he doesn’t actually have to agree, but I have to offer him a choice first, you know.”

Genji hesitated, not sure if he was hearing her correctly because that sounded vaguely like a threat.  “I see.”

“You, too, Genji, it has been a while, it would ease my mind to take care of you personally.  Though not both of you brothers at the same time, of course!  That would be silly.”  She gave a little laugh, and Genji let out a slightly more nervous sounding chuckle in response because there was nothing very funny about the last several sentences she had uttered.  He could only hope that it was because their English comprehension was not perfect and not… something else.

“I will pass that on to Hanzo, we shall get back to you as soon as possible,” Genji answered, more or less truthfully.  “I should get going, but I will see you later, Angela. Until then, don’t work too hard!”  Bowing his respect, because Angela was still a doctor, his savior, despite her little idiosyncrasies, Genji then closed the door to her office and darted away.

He had just rounded the corner to the kitchen and almost crashed headlong into McCree.

“Whoa there, you okay, Genji?” McCree exclaimed, who had reached out to grab his shoulder to keep him upright.

“Oh, sorry!”  That was not like him, to not hear McCree coming from all the noise and talk and smell that broadcasted his presence far more than should suit a former black ops agent.  “I have a lot on my mind at the moment,” he explained in apology.

“Ah, don’t worry about it.”  Letting go of Genji, McCree gave him a friendly pat on the back.  “So what’re you needing here, buddy?” he asked.  “Is it something for your brother?  How’s Hanzo doing by the way?  Neither of you showed up to breakfast.  Was starting to wonder what happened…”

With each word from the cowboy, Genji felt his previous unease return as various conflicting emotions and memories, some old and some very recent, began to all demand his attention at once.  Although the milk had long been absorbed and processed into nutrients for his nervous system by the nanomachines, his stomach suddenly began to feel unsettled, and McCree’s drawling chatter only worsened his discomfort.

“Hanzo is fine,” Genji interrupted.  “He is still in bed resting, so I thought I should get him something after checking in with Angela.  Some tea and maybe some uhh…”  Right, Hanzo did not like breakfast food, most of what they had stocked here gave him indigestion.  “More tea.”

“Are you sure he doesn’t want something solid now?” McCree looked genuinely worried.  “All he had so far was soup, right?  I can scramble some eggs real quick, there are leftover muffins, too.”

“Oh no, no, thanks for the offer, but no.”  If Hanzo wasn’t ill before, he would be after eating anything with a gram of fat before noon.  Genji loved American food at any time of day, or he had back when he still had his human body, but Hanzo’s intestines still have not settled the score, not even after years of taking assassination jobs around the world and thus forced to eat food not cooked by renowned private chefs with resumes of exclusively starred Michelin restaurants.  “I am sure my brother will be fine waiting until lunch to get real food.  He prefers it that way.”

“If you say so.”

That did not seem to reassure McCree at all, and Genji could sense his bulk hovering nearby as he gathered the items for tea on a tray.  It was obvious he intended to follow Genji back to Hanzo.  Which normally Genji would not have minded, as it had become an endless source of (admittedly mean-spirited) amusement to encourage the cowboy with the possibility that one day Hanzo would return his feelings, and then watch McCree getting shot down in increasingly brutal and creative ways by his brother.  But the restlessness that had been curling in his stomach rose in rebellion at the thought of Hanzo and McCree in the same room.  It’d be a disaster, even more so than usual.  McCree had the sharpest set of eyes of the team, he would figure it out somehow, and then Hanzo would overreact (again) and do his very best to kill Genji (again) once his secret was out.  Who knows if Angela would be lucky enough to just barely save him in time (again).

It may be asking too much, but Genji would like to make it through the next day with all of his body parts functioning.

Yet try as he might, Genji could not come up with a single excuse to throw McCree off the trail, as that sort of thing had been Hanzo’s specialty.  The best he could do was stall for time, which only had a low chance of distracting McCree from his mission but could at least bore him so he would not want to talk to Hanzo for long.  It was excruciating, “accidentally” running into various teammates around the base, who upon seeing him carrying the tea tray, felt obligated to give something to the recovering Hanzo to ease his healing process.  By the end of the hour, McCree was holding a shopping bag containing: a music player loaded with probably not very relaxing music from Lucio, a jar of peanut butter (smooth) from Winston, one tablet labeled “extremely difficult sudoku” from Satya, several magazines and books and even a comic book, all about subjects Hanzo would never get caught dead reading, from Zarya and Junkrat or Roadhog and Reinhardt and Mei, and finally one cutesy printed zipper bag (contents intentionally not specified) from Hana, who had told them Hanzo had contacted her, actually texted her for the first time since she gave him her number months ago, to specifically gather these “super seeeeeeecret” items for him and he will pay her back later.  Ignoring for now the fact that Hana gave Hanzo her number a while ago and had yet to give Genji her number, Genji found himself dying of curiosity, but decided the best thing he should do was to not tempt fate any further.  So he told McCree to open the bag.

McCree of course opened the bag.  “Looks like fancy make-up stuff…  Hanzo wears make-up? I had no idea…”

“Well, I’m not sure.  I mean, he could have really used it back in the old days, but… nowadays, I don’t think he does?”  Genji had used some make-up, and had even put some on his brother before, just eyeliner and eyeshadow and his favorite lipgloss, but Hanzo seemed to prefer appearing as traditional and old-fashioned as possible.  Even now at thirty-eight, he had not dyed the graying hair at his temples, which Genji would have loved to do for him, so it was odd to think that his brother wore any make-up at any point in time.  But since McCree had the bag already opened, Genji took a peek inside.

“What, his pores are perfect, why would he want concealer?”  Snorting in indignation, Genji wondered why his brother did not consult him; obviously Hana’s skin had a neutral tone compared to their warm-toned skin, this shade of concealer would not work at all, and who was he trying to impress by wearing makeup today anyway?

Then remembering where he was, Genji made the motion of clearing his throat and told McCree, “Okay, zip up the bag, don’t tell him that we looked.  I am going to knock on the door and let him know we are both here, he will probably tell you to go away.  Just say that you got something for him.”

“But I didn’t get anything for him!” McCree muttered in consternation as they neared Hanzo’s room.

“Hey, I’m back with McCree, open up, Hanzo!” Genji called out in Japanese.  They were greeted with silence.  “I got your tea stuff, I’m sure you’re thirsty.”

“Leave it at the door and go away.”  This was in English.

Genji glanced at McCree’s direction, who chuckled under his breath at Hanzo’s predictableness.

“We got a bunch of things from the team for you, including whatever you requested from Hana,” McCree said to the unresponsive door.  “C’mon now, Hanzo, open up.  Just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

The door slid open just a crack and Hanzo’s glaring eyeball appeared in the space.  “I am better.  Thank you, now please leave,” he spat out very ungraciously.

Genji pushed the door open a little wider and handed the tray over.  The tin of tea leaves, freshly washed pot and cups, bottled water, all the various accessories they had to spend their own money to obtain.  Hanzo ducked out of sight to put it away, warning Genji to not step one foot further into the room or he will lose that foot.  Glancing out of the corner of his vision, Genji noticed the glass of milk at the bedside table had disappeared, which was one less thing to worry about, although now he wished he had tasted some before it got tossed.  Too bad.

Then Hanzo put out his hands, demanding Hana’s bag, which he snatched away as soon as McCree gave it to him, presumably to bury somewhere with the other nuts for the winter. 

“There’s still some more stuff,” McCree said, “don’t you want to take a look at it?”

With a sigh, Hanzo finally appeared in the doorway, obviously wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.  In silence, Hanzo examined the contents of the shopping bag, while McCree standing behind Genji did his very best to not ogle at the black hair spilling over Hanzo’s shoulders, the fact that his kimono, while covering his left shoulder and breast, managed to somehow both display his bountiful (for lack of a better word) cleavage to devastating effect and also hint at the much sought-after right nipple through its thin fabric.

“Hanzo… you have ankles?” McCree whispered in awe. 

“Yes?” Hanzo raised an eyebrow at him.

“So you really are 100% natural.”  For the record, Genji had not been sure about Hanzo’s lower legs himself, had never thought to ask if the armor plating was part of a set of prosthetics or if he was just really that insecure about his skinny calves and had to wear it all the time.  But there they were, shins and calves and ankles and toes peeking from under the hem of the kimono, all as human as possible.  Genji could have shaken the ungratefulness out of Hanzo, they weren’t the best legs, but he personally wouldn’t have worn the armor if he could have avoided it.

However, the biggest problem right now, so to speak, happened to be McCree leaning into Genji’s back to look his fill at Hanzo, the cowboy’s ridiculous belt buckle hovering perilously near Genji’s wakizashi magnet.  To prevent a repeat of last year’s incident, in which McCree did manage to get himself stuck to Genji’s lower back and Torbjorn tried to shut off the electromagnetic field but used the wrong hand and Tracer walked in on the scene of Reinhardt and Farah straining to separate a screaming three way and everyone had nightmares for weeks afterwards, Genji put his hand behind his back to gently push McCree away.

And in the process inadvertently grabbed a handful of slightly littler McCree quickly on its way to a not littler status.  He would almost be jealous, except for the fact that he was already ragingly jealous.

“This is just trash,” Hanzo finally declared of the shopping bag’s contents, while Genji tried to not reveal that for a fraction of a second, he had just held onto McCree’s boner for his brother.  Narrowing his eyes disdainfully at the two, Hanzo repeated, “Especially all this here.”

Exhaling heavily right into Genji’s auditory sensors and making him wince, McCree pushed forward.  “Now wait just a minute…”

“You can throw everything out, I don’t want any of it.”

“Hanzo,” McCree said, his voice gone dangerously quiet and flat.  “Everyone was worried about you.  You’re being a real asshole right now.”

“Are you seriously lecturing me on manners, cowboy?” Hanzo retorted.

“Hey, you can criticize me all you want, but don’t you dare call your brother trash, after he cooked for you and took care of you.”

“Actually I think he was calling you trash, McCree.”  But Genji was ignored.

“He is a grown man, he is my brother, I can call him what I want.”

In one swift movement, Genji was shoved out of the way and McCree stepped forward to haul Hanzo up by the collar of his kimono, causing him to drop the bag.  “Say that again, partner,” he growled.

“You heard me.  This is none of your business,” Hanzo hissed bitterly.  “Hah.  So American of you, thinking you know the right way to do everything, then running away when it goes wrong.”  Forced to stand on his tiptoes, Hanzo clutched at the burly forearms, his fingernails digging into both flesh and metal though not making any motion to free himself.  “Let go, cowboy.  Save yourself the embarrassment of failure and leave me alone.”

“Like hell I am.  We’re all teammates here, Hanzo, or did you forget?  I don’t know what went on with your life, but everyone was happy to give up something of theirs hoping it’d help you feel better, not knowing if you were ever gonna say thanks.  The least you can do---”

“What a joke,” Hanzo said scornfully, and in a mocking tone, continued, “We are all trained killers here, McCree, not some big family.  But I suppose everyone has been brainwashed into accepting this farce that we are fighting to save humanity by the ape instead of acknowledging the heinous crimes we have all committed. At least I am honest about my past, unlike you.”

The telltale red glint in McCree’s eye flashed bright. In response, a blue light drifted up ominously from Hanzo’s back and left shoulder.

Before they both went into overdrive and destroyed half the base, Genji ducked in between their bodies.

“Brother, remember what we talked about…  Better to have him on our side than Angela involved,” he murmured in Japanese to Hanzo, who dropped his arms after a second of hesitation.  To McCree, he simply shook his head, and suddenly abashed, McCree let go of Hanzo’s kimono, easing him back to his feet.

The most hilarious thing, Genji thought, feeling his brother’s heartbeat hammer furiously swift under his hand, McCree’s clearly still aroused breathing behind him, was that he at one point thought it would be a good idea for the two of them to get together.  They got on like a house on fire, but now it was a sexy fire.  Was that better?  He didn’t think so.

After a moment of awkward silence, Hanzo lowered his gaze and reached down to pick up the bag.  “I apologize.  It has been years since someone has given me anything without an ulterior motive.”

Eager to make amends, McCree relaxed, all meticulously constructed joviality once more.  “Nah, I was just thinking that may be the case.  Sorry for blowing up on you, Hanzo, what with you just getting over a cold.”

“No, I gave you cause, I should have been better than that, to both of you,” Hanzo murmured.  Wordlessly, the three of them hunted down the colored pencils that had fallen out of their box, apparently someone thought Hanzo could use a coloring book, and when all eighteen colors were reunited, Genji thought it might be a good time to pull McCree out and into the privacy of his own room before he and slightly littler McCree could embarrass himself any further.

Unfortunately, McCree seemed hellbent on accomplishing his mission regardless of how much bloodflow had gone to his nether regions instead of his brain and deliberately disregarded any hinting Genji sent his way.  He had retrieved Winston’s jar of peanut butter from the bag and to Hanzo’s amusement, started waxing poetic on how captivating it felt to open a new jar and see under the foil seal the pristine smoothness of untouched peanut butter.

“I agree, it is a rare joy in this world,” Hanzo was saying with a preoccupied smile.

This better not turn sexual, Genji thought venomously, trying to not gag at the mental image conjured.

“If you only had something to eat it with, we could get open this up and get started.  I’m sure you could use the protein, right, Hanzo?”

And there he goes, zero to 100 just like that.  In perverse fascination, Genji looked from McCree to Hanzo and back, not sure if he wanted to be present or not for whatever was going to go down.  Possibly sex, or violence, or both at the same time.

“Certainly, but I should thank everyone first… Which I will do later.  Thank you, Genji, McCree, I will see you two soon.”  He gently but firmly guided them towards the doorway, but before he could push them out of his room completely, McCree turned back to look at him.

“I didn’t get you anything, Hanzo.”

“It’s fine, you gave me a lecture,” Hanzo responded dryly.

Genji tried to hold back a snicker.

“No, I mean something really good.”

Both Genji and Hanzo leaned away at this point as a sort of automatic response, but as it turned out, it was not another invasion of personal space.  McCree took off his serape and draped the heavy fabric over Hanzo’s shoulders.

“You still look cold,” he said quietly, gazing down with his soft cow eyes at Hanzo in an adoration so pure and bright it hurt to look at it directly.  “I’ll tell Winston to raise the temperature in your room a little.”

Then he was off, whistling merrily to himself, spurs clinking into the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I said I would rather die than succumb to writing any hint of McHanzo or McGenji, but here we go, guess I’m gonna die soon lmao. Anyway, thanks for reading this hot mess, I am honored by all the faith you put in future chapters being good, will do my best to not let you down… too much!


	5. Chapter 5

“What was that?” Genji asked once he got over his shock and closed the door behind him.

“I should be asking _you_ that!” Hanzo snapped.  Shaking himself out of his stunned state, Hanzo took the serape off his shoulders and began folding it unsteadily.  “Why did you bring that fool along?  He could have seen something.  You were lucky I got rid of the evidence beforehand.”

“If you took care of everything, then we had nothing to worry about,” Genji responded, shrugging.  “Not sure why you thought it was necessary to provoke him and you know, almost kill him and involve everyone else, like that’s not a suspicious sign at all.”

Hanzo looked as if he was about to retort, but then closed his mouth and glanced away with a small huff.

“Seriously, what the hell’s gotten into you?”  Pushing off the door, Genji crossed the room to stand in front of his brother.  “Such a temper, and you only had what, one bottle of sake in the past 24 hours?”

“…You said you’d be right back,” Hanzo muttered eventually, eyes trained on the serape he held in his arms.  “You were gone for over an hour.”

Genji let out a laugh in his surprise.  “Wow, missed me that quickly, anija?” he teased.  “That’s a first.”

“I was worried something had gone wrong,” Hanzo replied testily, eyes darting up to glare at his brother.  “I couldn’t just walk around the base to find out, and I have yet to see you carry your phone with you.”

“Oh, yeah, well, it’s hard to keep a phone on you when you don’t wear clothes with pockets.  Or clothes in general.”  Seeing Hanzo roll his eyes, Genji added, “Maybe I should also get a backpack when I order that hoodie and bra?”

“I don’t even know why I talk to you sometimes.”

Holding his hands up in a gesture of appeasement, Genji laughed and said, “Okay, I admit, I could’ve tried harder to shake McCree off, but he’s just so hard to say no to when he’s all puppy-like asking about you.  And in the end, nothing happened, your secret is still safe, plus you got lots of goodies from everyone else, and McCree got to see for himself that you’re okay without having to bust down the door.  So… we’re cool now?  Right?”

Hanzo stared at him, so sharply that Genji had to take a few steps back.  Then as if coming to some conclusion, he turned away and set the folded serape down at the foot of his bed.

“It stinks of his cigars.”  But that was all, no comment about returning it or even washing it.

Somehow, Genji felt that he had lost, even though there had been no game or contest, no way he could have been defeated, that sinking disappointment lurched in his chest, dragging his spirits down.

“You may go now, Genji,” Hanzo said quietly as he retrieved the bag and its separated contents and began setting things onto his bedside table in little organized piles. 

“Wait, before I go, anija…” Genji ventured.  He couldn’t leave just yet, not on that note.

“Yes?”

“Can you just explain what you need Hana’s makeup for?” he asked.  “I mean, you going on a date tonight or something?  With who?”  Obviously not McCree, that much was evident.

“You opened her bag,” Hanzo said, not even a question.  “Of course you did.”

“Technically, _McCree_ did,” Genji clarified, as if that would convince Hanzo it had not been his idea to do so.

Hanzo took a deep breath, then very deliberately swept his hair over his shoulder with one hand, the other hand lowering his kimono down to expose the red marks along the side of his neck and back.

Well, that explained a lot.  In his defense, Genji did not even remember making them, but flaring garish against golden skin, there was no way anyone else could miss seeing such marks for what they signified.  “Sorry…” he mumbled, mortified as he would have never been as a human.  “I didn’t think I was biting that hard.”

In a neutral tone, Hanzo simply said, “Since you made them, help me cover them up.”

While the two of them sat on the bed together in silence, Genji made a decent attempt at doing so, dabbing concealer just a shade too light over Hanzo’s hickeys with fingertips not meant for this purpose.  It wasn’t flawless work by any means, but now no one would notice anything unusual unless they were literally on top of Hanzo.

Shit, Jesse, Genji thought with a jolt.

He could only hope that if McCree had seen the marks when he had grabbed Hanzo by the collar, the cowboy would have said something aloud.  Maybe he didn’t recognize them for what they were.  But that was really, really doubtful, Genji had to admit, knowing their history together.

He needed to talk to McCree as soon as possible.

With every sign of outward calm, Genji put the make-up bottle back into its bag, while absolutely not taking any note of how big and captivatingly soft Hanzo’s breasts looked from this new angle or how the dragon tattoo very conveniently covered the beginnings of another crescent moon bruise forming above his left nipple.

“If we’re done…” he began uncertainly.

“Yes.  You’ve caused enough trouble so far, Genji.”  But the tone was a little more affectionate than usual, not so chastising.  “I think I’ll be fine now, you enjoy the rest of your day.”

Just when Genji thought he was being dismissed, Hanzo reached up and patted him on the top of his head.  From anyone else, Genji would have laughed at such an awkward gesture, but from Hanzo, he could only freeze, keeping his eyes on the bemused expression on Hanzo’s face, to better bask in the rare attention.

“They look like cat ears,” Hanzo explained, after he tentatively stroked the protuberances on Genji’s forehead protector.

“Hah, that’s where my wifi is,” Genji offered cheekily, watching Hanzo’s response.

Hanzo just laughed, a sudden and genuine sound that filled the room with warmth.  “Then you must never leave my side.”

“I won’t.  Not anymore.  Except err now, but I’ll be nearby, promise!”

“I know, Genji, I know.  You did your best to help me, I appreciate it even if it did not work out as we would have preferred.”  Then with a helpless smile, Hanzo murmured, “I’m sorry your big brother doesn’t have anything to give you as thanks.”

“You don’t ever have to give me anything, anija,” Genji protested.

“No, I do.  That’s what big brothers are for.”  Reaching over to the other side of the bed, Hanzo retrieved his sake flask and handed it to his brother.  “Here, take this, empty it out and return it to me when you’re done.”

Genji was about to give it back; there had been nothing left in the bottle after Hanzo chugged the last of his sake last night so he didn’t understand why he needed to empty it again.  But as he unplugged the cork to check, he caught a whiff of a sweet mouthwatering scent and immediately understood the nature of his gift.

“Okay, got it!” he said, grinning widely beneath his faceplate.

Hanzo stood up, and Genji automatically followed him to the door.  Just as he was about to leave, Hanzo caught him by the hand and whispered with lips pressed close to his faceplate…

“Perhaps another time, we can refill it together.”

And caught a faceful of steam when Genji overheated.

 

* * *

 

 

Genji made his exit, but not stealthily enough, as they both heard Hana’s voice calling his name from down the hallway.  Cursing softly, Genji darted away with his gift cradled in his arms, and Hanzo stepped forward in order to haul a sprinting Hana to a sudden stop by one arm.  She shrieked, giggling as he set her upright back on her feet.

“You’re not going to catch him,” Hanzo told her sternly.  “What did you even need with my brother anyway?”

“Genji finally beat me the other day, and we were supposed to have a rechallenge gaming session last night!”  Frowning, she squinted up at him.  “Guess he must have been hiding out in your room this whole time.”

“If I had known you had challenged him, I would have not kept him away from a duel of honor.”

“It’s okay, I’ll flush him out soon enough,” Hana muttered, then turned her attention to Hanzo.  “So… are you feeling better?”

“I was a little uncomfortable yesterday, but I am perfectly fine now.  Thank you.”

“No problem!  And the yanno, goods worked out for you?”

“Yes, I will pay you back…” he began.  Sighing at her struggle to squeeze past his frame and into his room, Hanzo finally stepped aside and let her in.  “Can I help you with something, Hana?”

“Nope!” she chirped out, as she began inspecting her surroundings with a curious, almost professional air.

Hanzo was just about to congratulate himself for sending Genji away with his sake flask, then in sudden realization, he reached for McCree’s serape that was still sitting on his bed just a second too late.

“I had no idea what you needed the goods for, but obviously you had a certain hunky cowboy to impress,” Hana crowed out, grasping the folded red blanket triumphantly as evidence.  “You should have said something, I could have gotten Satya to help you, too.  We could have made it a girl’s night out.”

Making the executive decision to ignore the “girl’s” part, especially in light of his dilemma that caused this entire mess, Hanzo said, “You misunderstand, Hana.  I needed to disinfect my bedding, so McCree lended me his serape as an extra blanket until I was able to do laundry.”

“Hmm… okay, sure, if you insist, Hanzo.”  Hana gave him back the serape, which he took and immediately tucked out of sight under a blanket.  “I just thought it would be so nice if you and McCree got along better.  Trust me, you really don’t need any make-up, he already thinks the world of you, you might just blind him if you did anything else, then he would be completely useless.”

“Not you, too,” he grumbled sourly.  Straightening, he retrieved a rarely used pouch from a dresser drawer and began handing Hana a stack of bills of various denominations that should more than pay for the make-up and the bag and her eternal silence on this matter.  “If you really want to help me out, you will not mention this to anyone else.”

“Mention what?” Genji asked from where he was leaning against the doorway.

“That Hanzo wanted to look super hot for a date with Mc“ She did not get to finish on account of Hanzo trying to cover her mouth and asking her frantically what her price was.  With her best display of inner core strength yet, Hana managed to maneuver around just enough in his arms to give him a hug and a kiss to his chin.  “There, that was my price.”

In a scandalized voice, Genji announced, “Oooh, yakuza assassin just got played by a 19 year old gamer girl.  Cuz guess what, I already know all about it.”

“Ahhh, I knew it!” Hana screamed.

“Don’t listen to him, Hana, he is bluffing.”

“Maybe for now.  But it’s only a matter of time before you succumb to the McD, Hanzo.”  She slipped away back to her room, but not before confirming her rematch with Genji two nights from now.  “Seeya!” she called out, waving to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was working pretty sober/hungover for half of this chapter and it was painful lol. Idk when the brofucks will return, there’s a lot of really extra drama I wanted to write for myself. But yep, hope no one is offended by this self indulgent fic within a fic, I'll get back on subject... someday, thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is my entry for McGenji week, but not really lol, I just wanna be one of the cool kids, it’s actually sad past McGenji so I’m not tagging it as such but it’s there. Just warning you!)

At least Hanzo had improved enough to entertain Hana for a while, and Genji had to smile to see his proud brother stumble to a loss around their clever teammate.  He did feel a little envious at how Hana managed to get her face so close to his brother’s chest, but then again, it had never been his property to claim.  Not that he could… or wanted to.  Not really.

Anyway, if Hanzo thought he could keep up with Hana, then he was back to normal, physically and mentally.  So Genji was no longer needed.  With a salute to his brother, who rolled his eyes and closed the door, Genji made his exit.

Now for what he dreaded to deal with the most.  Genji circled back to McCree’s room to see if he had returned from talking to Winston about the thermostat settings or whatever had been keeping him away.  He lifted a hand to knock, but could not bring himself to complete the motion.  What could he even say to him?  ‘Hey, hope you didn’t notice those hickeys on my brother’s neck that only I could have made because I was the only one with him last night and also you’ve seen those teeth marks before on your own self?’

The whole situation was so fucked up, Genji could not refrain from putting a hand to his visor and laughing.  Just as he was about to slink away, the door opened, McCree standing there in all of his gritty flamboyance.  Genji turned, took a deep breath, grateful for the faceplate hiding his expression, the vocalization mechanism disguising his voice.

“Hey.”  That was about as much as he could manage because he just noticed that McCree had not finished buckling his belt yet.  Or zipping up his jeans or buttoning his shirt for that matter.

“Hey, Genji.”  McCree looked a little dazed and rumpled around the edges, like he had been woken from a nap, although Genji was not sure that was entirely the case.

“Didn’t know I was interrupting some private time!  I can come back later if you need to finish up,” he offered, trying to come off playful instead of brittle.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, was just trying to nap,” McCree answered with a low chuckle, finally somewhat decent.  “You need something, huh?” he asked, slowly returning to alertness, his eyes scanning Genji’s form carefully.

Put back under the spotlight, Genji faltered.  “I just… wanted to apologize for my brother’s behavior.”  Something safe to say, which he had to do once or twice before when an occasional late shipment of sake to base pushed Hanzo’s temper past its breaking point.

“Aww, he already apologized, Genji, everything’s fine now.  There’s no need to--”

“It wasn’t a real apology.”  His next words lodged in his throat, his mind whirling trying to find a safe way to approach the subject, and his useless eyes failed to help, focusing instead on a sliver of McCree’s hairy chest peeking through his haphazardly buttoned shirt before wrenching back up to his face.  Briefly, Genji wondered if he was about to have one of those weeks during which he mentally assesses everyone’s chests, this time against his brother’s (about a DD cup from what he can tell last night), but which at least would be better than ass-week because his faceplate would be facing the direction of their eyes sometimes.

“Okay, okay, whatever you say,” McCree was saying.  “You wanna come in?”  He stepped aside, and Genji slid in, against his better judgement.

“What’s this all about, Genji?  Something wrong?” McCree persisted in a soothing drawl.

“No.  I mean, unless… you think something is wrong with Hanzo?  More than usual?”

“Dunno.  I don’t know your brother like you do.  That could be his normal for all I know.”  Sitting on the edge of his bed, McCree shrugged his ignorance, and in the following silence, he watched Genji pace back and forth across a patch of worn carpet.

This implied McCree had been so pissed off by the slur against Overwatch he wasn’t looking carefully, which seemed rather unlikely, but Genji decided to not press the matter and risk exposing himself further.  He said haltingly, gathering his scattered thoughts into some form of coherency, “Hanzo gets irritable without his alcohol, but so far he has only taken it out on me.  He still prides himself on his self-control, his professionalism, I guess… I did not think he would sink to insulting the people who are housing and feeding him and giving him a second chance at redeeming himself.  If he had actually called on the dragons in a non-combat situation, if he hurt you somehow… I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Yeah, I can see where you’re coming from there,” McCree conceded good-naturedly.  “But he’s been sick; hell, if I were him, I’d be cussing my own commanding officer out just for the chance to breathe through my nose properly again.  And to be fair, I got into his space first, so I deserved whatever happened next.  Though you needn’t worry, seeing how I got through life in one piece so far… well, almost.”

His fears ameliorated, at least for now, Genji snorted.  “All right, quit bragging, Jesse.”

They laughed together, the bitter cynical laughter of those who had squared off with death, who escaped with their lives, but had to leave something behind in return for that.  McCree had been luckier than Genji, having only lost his arm; then again, McCree had been trying to be a good man, Genji had not.

“Thanks for talking with me,” Genji said in genuine fondness.  “It helps… a lot.”

McCree blushed.  “I’m always happy to, Genji.  You know I’m here for you and your brother.”

“I do know.  But mostly for Hanzo, right?”

“Well… not all the time,” McCree demurred.

Even though there was no way McCree could tell, Genji stared him down.  It was tough, admitting that he had been leading McCree around, who had been as good as a friend as he deserved, and aggravating his older brother at the same time by doing so.  But it wasn’t as if he had done wrong, not exactly.  McCree worshipped the ground Hanzo walked on, and Hanzo might never meet someone else who would accept him as a kinslayer and still find the good in him worth loving. They were both silly, old-fashioned anachronisms, completely at odds on every matter and yet with similar enough backgrounds to complement the other.  So perfect for each other, he was starting to feel jealous.  Jealous that Hanzo could get a real chance at happiness, but maybe even more jealous that McCree might be the one to give him that happiness…

“Do you really like him that much?”

Still red, McCree nodded sheepishly.  “’Course I do.  Even if I want to shake the hell out of him sometimes.”

“Oh, so you’re not a complete idiot around him, good to know.”  Genji continued, a little tauntingly, “Well, if you’re that serious about my brother, Jesse, you better hurry and get going.  I just saw Hanzo and Hana hanging out in his room, they seem reeeeally close for friends.”

“Whaaaa?  Hana?  _Our_ Hana?”  McCree scoffed.  “She’s half his age and he barely understands anything she says!”

“True, but you know, if you combine their names, it would be HanHan.  Hanhan, Jesse, think about it.”

As Genji expected, McCree gasped aloud, eyes wide, completely stricken.  “God damn it, that’s, that’s way cuter than Hanse or Jezo!”

“Uhh, you bet it is.”  Seriously, he already thought of their combined names?  Genji held back a shudder at the thought of McShimada ever being uttered in this existence, because he would.

“I don’t know what I can do,” McCree groaned as he clutched at his hair dramatically.  “Hana’s just so cute.  And a vicious winner-takes-all lil she-devil.  But a man’s gotta keep his pride…”

“I’m kidding!” Genji finally burst out, laughing.  “I was only teasing you, Jesse.  Hana has been working on her aim out of her mecha, and since Hanzo can speak Korean, they spend some time training together. Nothing romantic at all.”

“You had me scared there, don’t joke like that!” McCree complained.

“Don’t let your guard down around Hana, regardless,” Genji replied sagely.  “If she sees one moment of weakness from you, she will pounce on it, trust me, I’ve lost to her so many times already.”

They talked for a while like that, like friends and teammates would, though always a little bit about Hanzo.  Hanzo was all McCree cared about these days, and Genji told himself he was fine with that.  But the shadows still lingered in McCree’s eyes, which one couldn’t always see, blinded by his big bright smile.  They were the ghosts from McCree’s past that still haunt his dreams and waking, even though he had declared he had gotten over them by now.

Genji knew better, of course, had known for a while.

Hanzo was only a little like Reyes, whom Jesse had loved.  Hanzo was only a little like Ana and Morrison, whom Jesse also had loved.  But he was enough like them, a king, a soldier, a god.  He was someone untouchable an attention-starved man like Jesse could strive for, to suffer in agony and ecstasy for, to prove himself over and over for, that he was not a coward or a fake, that he was for real, a real good man.

Hanzo was nothing like Genji.  Genji had always been too flighty and easy and curious.  Despite being left alone to his own devices after his rebirth, he had succumbed quickly to the friendly interest of Angela’s longtime teammate.  Here was a real American hero, he had thought, just like the ones in his manga, a good man made over from a bad one, the model progression Overwatch had hoped Genji would follow.  Back then, more than anything, Genji had wanted to forget the pain of his reconstruction, the reality of a new life without his human body that he had not appreciated, the too raw memory of being cut down by his own brother.  Jesse gave him that distraction happily and fearlessly, and even when they parted amicably and went their separate ways, he continued to offer affection and companionship, not asking for anything in return.

But Genji did have something to offer, and that was how he taught his new friend something of charm, which Jesse had amazingly not yet mastered at twenty six, depending more on roughened good looks and a maybe a bucket of fried chicken than any true experience of seduction.  It had been fun, lying close together in one of the small dormitory beds on base, Jesse raptly absorbed in Genji’s every word and inflection and touch and more.  While Genji soon discovered he could not feel much in his cyborg body, at least Jesse could enjoy those nights enough for them both, as someone his own age who could still experience the pleasures of life Genji had once reveled in to the excess, who could talk to him about those pleasures in a funny smoothed out voice.

It was just for fun, teaching Jesse some things to say, it was supposed to be just for fun.

_Dearest._

_You are the stars in my sky._

_Let me stay by your side._

Words Genji wanted said to him, but in Japanese.  Words he wanted to say to someone else.  Murmured in an imperfect pronunciation from a lovestruck young American had satisfied him back then, but now he could only imagine Jesse saying those same words to Hanzo. 

What a fool he was.  All his life, Genji had always bragged about how much better he was doing than Hanzo, and now, after Zenyatta’s tutelage, Genji could actually back his statement.  But in the end, when it mattered most, he just kept fucking up.  And this time, he could not ask his brother to help him clean up his mess.  All he could do was endure.

Laughing, or trying to, Genji said goodbye to McCree, telling him they should hang out more, to which McCree heartily agreed.  He even walked away calmly enough, yet in his head, he could imagine Jesse’s voice, but older, more smoke-ruined, in gentle echoes chasing him down the hallway. 

_Let me stay.  Dearest, you are my stars._

So he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I furiously and drunkenly wrote like 18,000 words of Overwatch fic just to set up a Team Fortress 2 reference, you’re welcome!!! 
> 
> Quick poll to anyone reading, do I write 2 (at least 2 lol) more chapters of no brofucks or do I attempt to write the brofucks in the next chapter? This is the only fic I plan to write for Overwatch at the moment, so I wanted to write all the nonsense I had in mind down, but if we're impatient for the frickle frackle, then I will forgo these 2+ chapters because like the past 3 chapters, they have little to do with the story, I just write the drama I wanna read. But on the other hand, the frickle frackle is not my strong point, I have been told. It's a lose lose situation lmao.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hours later and I’m still thinking about that hot beefy los muertos omnic from the update, god damn, need me a freak like that. Coincidentally, Zenyatta and Bastion are in this chapter, but NOT LIKE THAT.

When it seemed that no one else would be asking to speak with him, Hanzo set about making his tea using the portable kettle in his room.  Tucking himself under the blanket, McCree’s serape covering his bare toes, he savored the soothing non-alcoholic warmth and cleansing taste of the tea in relative peace without Genji and his darting around and constant noise.  Then after fiddling with the music player, Hanzo picked up the books, flipped through their pages, sparing a few moments to mentally thank (?) the gifters who obviously had no idea what he would like to read and so just gave him whatever they had lying around. 

Still, it was very kind of his teammates, who up to this point had mostly left him alone, with the exception of McCree and lately Hana.  He would have to find a way to thank each one personally, and maybe ask why they thought he would need such items as if he were bedridden for ten weeks instead of ten hours.  He was certain he did not look or sound that ill yesterday.

Hanzo made some headway into the Sudoku, clearing several puzzles with ease despite his listlessness until his stomach grumbled loudly at the lack of solid food.  Concerned, he debated trying to flag down Genji to bring a meal to his room or leaving to prepare his own food.  In the end, Hanzo put on a cotton haori over his kimono for extra protection against prying eyes and stepped out into the corridor.  No point putting off social contact any longer, especially since the medicine had taken effect and his body mostly returned to normal.  Also, he needed another bottle of sake.  He had endured more than twelve hours without any, which was eleven hours too long.

It was still rather cool outside of his room despite the sun, Hanzo observed unhappily, wishing there was a way he could have dragged the cowboy’s blanket along without garnering any odd looks or snickers.  As it turned out, he may have gotten away with it, as he met only Satya in the halls, who informed him that the most of the team had left base to go purchase supplies in town or otherwise enjoy their day off.  Out of habit, he was about to ask her if she had seen Genji, but held his tongue in time.  Genji surely had his own things to do, Hanzo could look after himself for a whole day without depending on his brother.  With a formal bow, Hanzo thanked her for the information and for lending him her tablet.

“I enjoyed the challenge.  Thank you, Satya.”

Satya looked at him sharply, surprise and amusement flickering across her normally haughty features.  “It was my pleasure, Hanzo,” she replied with a small, oddly self-conscious smile.  “I am just glad to see you are doing better.  Please, keep the tablet and download any puzzles you like in the future.”  Before he could protest, she had already swept away, leaving him alone.

Hanzo lingered in the kitchen in Roadhog’s wordless yet harmless company.  He made himself lunch with whatever he thought he could digest; leftover rice in the refrigerator, a boiled egg, pungent pickled vegetables from a jar no one else had the courage to open much less consume from, a new bottle of sake.  Just as he was about to sit down with his bowl and drink, Roadhog shuffled over and set a few packages of candy and cookies and chips on the table beside him.

“Are these… for me?” Hanzo asked.

Roadhog nodded, then retrieved a packet of beef jerky and some protein bars from the pantry and added it to the pile.  He gestured to the calorie-loaded pre-packaged food and then to Hanzo and then to his own massive stomach and then to Hanzo’s stomach.  It took him a few moments before Hanzo could grasp what Roadhog wanted to convey.  Apparently, Roadhog thought Hanzo was too skinny or sickly and needed some fattening up in order to keep insulated against chilly weather, like himself.  With a chuckle, Hanzo bobbed his head in thanks.

“They look delicious, thank you.”

Roadhog let out a pleased rumbling laugh and helpfully opened a package of Tam Toms, not satisfied until Hanzo ate one of the overly sweet confections after finishing his meal.  Only then was Hanzo allowed to leave holding a sack full of snacks and the sake.

Hanzo did not know when he started dozing off in bed, open sake bottle in one hand, the coloring book and pencils on his lap.  But he knew he could not hide behind a bottle in his room forever, especially now that he had recovered.  No other choice left, Hanzo changed and got out Stormbow and his quiver, determined to at least stay on top of his sole skill, the only thing still of use about him.

Before Hanzo made it to the target range, he had to pause to indulge a refreshing breeze blowing from the side courtyard that ruffled his hair.  Drawn by the shining sun and fresh air, Hanzo detoured to the courtyard, looking forward to meditate in nature and clear his mind of all the stresses of his “illness” that had only been compounded by Genji and McCree’s involvement.  Then he noticed Zenyatta had already claimed the sunniest spot.  He hesitated mid-step.  Zenyatta may be Genji’s master, but he was not exactly Hanzo’s friend.  In fact, Hanzo had been pranked several times since joining Overwatch, and he felt sure Zenyatta was behind at least a few of the jokes or at least did not try very hard to stop Genji from going through with them because obviously Genji would.

Before Hanzo could withdraw without being noticed, Zenyatta drifted closer towards his direction, saying, “I see you have recovered, Hanzo.  If I may ask, how are you feeling now?”

Feeling like this was not the time for an impromptu psychotherapy session, Hanzo thought sourly.  But he did not want to antagonize a monk, who was far more worthy of his respect than say, a nosy cowboy outlaw American type, even if said monk was also an Omnic and therefore a little suspicious by nature.  So he answered, “I am well, my thanks.”  And because he really could not help himself, “Have you seen Genji by any chance?”

“I saw him briefly in the late morning, then he left.  He said he needed to take care of something important that had to be completed soon.” 

Hanzo tried to not look disappointed.  “I see.  Did he say anything else?”

“No.  He did act a little agitated.  I sensed he wanted to be alone and I did not pry.” The floating orbs around him hummed and rotated, and Zenyatta added kindly, “But I am sure he will return to find you as soon as he is finished.”

“…Thank you.”

There was a short silence, as Hanzo debated going on to target practice or staying here in Zenyatta’s unsettlingly calm company.   Then he decided that he had nothing to lose, and since Genji was not present…

“May I ask you a question, Zenyatta?”

“Please go ahead.”

“What did… Genji say about me to you?  When you first met?”

“He did not say much that was not fact.”  Zenyatta went quiet, seeming thoughtful.  “You were his older brother by three years, the heir to the Shimada clan who was able to control two spirit dragons.”  Another pause.  “An archer by preference, yet who used a katana to cut his younger brother down.  Who then gave up his position in the clan and became an assassin for hire.  That was all.  He rarely spoke of you until after you joined Overwatch and even then...”

Hanzo’s gaze slid to the ground, his jaw clenched painfully as the regret of ten years passed through his body like a storm.

“I thought perhaps somehow you could tell me about… why he decided to forgive me, his brother who should have protected him and instead killed him.  Why he asked that I join Overwatch with him when there is no one less suitable than me to join its ranks.”

“That is something you should ask him.”

“I did, several times. But Genji is keeping something back.  I just want the truth.”  The last sentence came out sullen and spoiled, and he tried to not scowl at his lack of control.  It was not Zenyatta’s fault, nothing was anyone’s fault but his own.

“I cannot read Genji’s mind,” Zenyatta said.  “Even if I told you my observations, I cannot speak for him, for I do not know him as you do.  All I can offer is my guidance if you wish to stay and meditate and try to discover these answers for yourself.”

There was nothing Hanzo wanted to do less, but walking away from the only one on this entire base who was even remotely qualified to help him would be the sort of fool thing his younger self would do.  He was better than that.  Just… a few minutes.  He could tolerate a few minutes, then practice afterwards.  Sighing deeply, Hanzo knelt onto a patch of soft grass facing slightly angled away from the entrance to the rest of the base, Zenyatta floating to a stop at his left side.

As he closed his eyes, he heard the artificial voice begin to speak, soothingly even.

“When Genji first brought up the possibility of you joining Overwatch, he told me the others thought he was crazy.  Winston had denied his request immediately and did not wish to consider it any further.  Angela wondered where she went wrong that he could even think of bringing his own murderer onto the team.  Lena and McCree disapproved as well, for they did not think it was not worth bringing you on.  But Genji persisted.  Eventually they decided the current lineup lacked that which only you could provide.  However, there were stipulations, considering your mental state.”

There always were, when he had taken on contracts in the past.  He knew what was written on his profile like the back of his hand, his reputation far outpacing his presence.  Depressed.  Alcoholic.  Obsessive.  Unstable.  Kin-slayer.  A potential liability.  Not that the handlers his clients assigned to watch him could ever keep up.  Not that anything in his file affected his 100% success rate.

“They considered how they could keep you under control,” Zenyatta continued.  “Genji argued against it.  He said you needed to be free, not muzzled or leashed like when you were younger.  When they did not sway, he begged on your behalf on his hands and knees.”

Anguished, Hanzo could picture that too easily.  How many times had he knelt on the ground before the elders in the exact same way, his forehead touching the floor, making excuses for his younger brother’s behavior, pleading for their forgiveness, asking that they be patient, he will make things right again…  It did not occur to him that Genji would defend him so vehemently, with all of his past defiance and mocking and teasing.  Then again, he could not recall Genji ever allowing anyone else to injure or insult his older brother in his presence.

 “Afterwards, Winston and Angela consulted me regarding you.  Though I did not know much about you at the time, I could say with confidence that to cage you in any way would only bring about the very disaster they wanted to avoid.  I could not verify if they really believed me.  I just know that Genji got his way in the end.”

“Somehow this is not making me feel any better,” Hanzo murmured sarcastically.

“Ah, I am not here to comfort you,” Zenyatta replied, sounding almost amused.  “You would not accept it from me.  But you would accept the truth, without judgment, is that not so?”

“Yes.  Of course.  Thank you, everything you have said has been… useful.”  Hanzo concentrated on his breathing, drawing air into his lungs, expelling the worn out air through his nostrils.  All the while, he mulled over what Zenyatta had told him, fitting the fragments into what he had gleaned from his often abortive conversations with Genji.  So Overwatch would rather have him and his dragons under their observation than anyone else’s - fine, he would have done the same in their position.  They had definitely lacked someone who could stay on long-range defense, he had seen that for himself when he participated in a team simulation for the first time.  Furthermore, Genji may have threatened to leave again if they did not accept Hanzo as one of their own, and while Overwatch had let him go before, they would not want to lose track of him this time, not when they needed his skills so urgently.

And though he would never tell Zenyatta outright, Hanzo now had reason to think that Overwatch’s initial impressions may have played into McCree’s complete reversal of feelings towards him, from the justified outrage he must have surely felt on his friend’s behalf to the overt infatuation too exaggerated to be completely genuine. 

Because who better than McCree to be his handler, who could draw and fire his gun faster than Hanzo could nock an arrow to his bow and release, who had even more experience as a mercenary and bounty hunter?  He was not sure he could defend against McCree then, not if McCree believed he was in love, doing the right thing to take a broken man and save him from himself while also very conveniently ensuring humanity would remain protected should something go wrong.  Such was the power of love, that could be so misguided as to lead a man to kill his brother.

For a while, Hanzo had allowed himself the hope that there were no ulterior motives in everyone’s kindnesses.  He had halfway convinced himself that perhaps these vigilante heroes of the reformed Overwatch were indeed as noble as they made themselves out to be to the public.  But he had been right to keep them all at a distance.  They needed him to keep Genji in line, to cover them on the battlefield, to prevent his dragons from being used against them by other groups, but they did not want him.  Who would?  He swore he would not be made a fool of again, betrayed and lied to by the people he trusted.

He had to remember, he was only here to be with Genji.  No one else mattered.  If this decision were to turn out a mistake as well, at least he would not be far from Genji.

In a halting voice, Hanzo spoke, musing aloud, “I am beginning to understand.  What you say makes sense.  I did not think an organization as hard-pressed as Overwatch would make the decision to take me on without careful consideration of the consequences.  But I did not know that Genji pushed to include me, or that you supported him.”  He took another breath, to calm the agitated trembling in his body.  “I wish… I had spoken to you sooner.  I could have spared Genji my anger and grief and selfishness if I had known all of this.  I have been overly harsh towards him ever since I arrived, and I regret that now.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“Yes.  I was harsh…” Hanzo had to stop, trying to speak through the guilt that threatened to overwhelm his self-restraint, “because I still could not believe Genji was really alive.  I had proof that he died.  I thought that Overwatch was mocking me, trying to convince me to join their ranks using a puppet programmed with his memories and abilities as, I don’t know, some sort of sick vengeance for what our clan has done.  But even if… even if I was being manipulated, I should be more thankful that I was able to speak with some semblance of my brother again.  After all, my spirit dragons were overjoyed to reunite with their lost brethren.  They cannot be deceived, I could have trusted them.  It would not have hurt me in any way to have been a little kinder.”  No one had forced Hanzo to join Overwatch, he could have just said no and continued living the miserable, purposeless, brother-less existence he had been living for the past several years.  Since he had thrown in his lot with Overwatch anyway, he could have found it in himself to be a little more supportive of Genji.  (Or just supportive at all, considering that he had never been a particularly kind person.)

“Whatever you feel you should have done regarding Genji, I sense that you have been even harsher with yourself,” Zenyatta assured him.  “Remember, you had been suddenly forced to deal with a revelation that went against everything you had been led to believe the past ten years.  It is natural and expected to be a little distant as you try to mentally adjust to a bewildering situation.”

“It has been several months, though…  I should have known better by now, I should have…”  Trailing off, Hanzo stared into the distance at the wispy clouds scattered over the horizon, listening to the sound of waves breaking against the cliffs below, seagulls calling somewhere far away.  He was tired of talking.  It had been so long since he spoken this much to strangers.  He wanted to go back to sleep.  Not a restless nightmare-infested nap, but a sleep so deep, he dreamed of nothing, free of pointless thoughts regarding duty or honor or family or redemption.  Mostly he wanted to die.

Soon enough.  For now he will just close his eyes.

“Hanzo…”  But Zenyatta said nothing else, only hovered close by his side, the comforting hum of his orbs blending with the sound of the breeze and ocean and gulls.

Just when Hanzo was about to fall asleep, he heard the chirping of songbirds nearby, loud enough to startle him awake.  With eyes closed, he listened to their sweet high pitched trills, a pang in his heart as he recalled spring days spent outdoors in his family’s company, a blanket under the sakura trees, carefree laughter.  Then he heard Zenyatta actually giggling from his left and he frowned.

“Zenyatta?  Are the birds trying to make a nest in my hair?”

“Yes, they are.”

Before he could shoo the birds away from his hair, they had grabbed his hairtie in their clawed feet and tugged it loose.  Hanzo watched in dismay as one yellow and green bird flew off, carrying the ribbon to a branch of a nearby tree.  Now Zenyatta was chortling freely, rolling back and forth in the air, and another bout of quick beeping signifying what could be interpreted as laughter from Bastion, whom Hanzo had not noticed sitting in the corner of the courtyard in standby mode.  That was his little bird, wasn’t it, he thought irritably.

“It’s not even the season for birds to build nests,” Hanzo muttered, annoyed that the robots were laughing at his expense.  He walked to the base of the tree to attempt to retrieve his hairtie from the bird still perched high above, with Zenyatta and Bastion following close behind so that he felt a little uncomfortable at their proximity.  But he reminded himself not to go back to his old ways of thinking, for despite his mistrust of Overwatch, Zenyatta and Bastion had nothing to do with the organization’s decisions, and both proved themselves as worthy and dependable as any human he had met, if not more.

Huffing, Hanzo searched for a handhold on the tree trunk, but the surface was too smooth for his preference and he was not sure he was up to anything more athletic like jumping from a wall onto the top of the tree.  Just when he was about to consider shooting down his hairtie with Stormbow, he felt something grasp under his shoulder and support his knees, lifting him off his feet.  Hanzo made a sound of surprise as Bastion gently placed him on its shoulders and moved closer under the tree branch.  Feeling this was completely unnecessary, Hanzo nevertheless took advantage of the added height and managed to jump and grab his hairtie back from the bird before they could fly off with it.  Both Bastion and Zenyatta made clapping motions and Hanzo snorted under his breath.  Surely Zenyatta could float up that high and get his hairtie back for him, but perhaps he could not, Hanzo could not remember.

“Err… thank you, Bastion,” he murmured.  In response, Bastion beeped in an excited, almost bashful manner, reaching up to guide Hanzo delicately back to solid ground as if he were a princess. 

At this point, Hanzo would have almost given up use of his actual legs to find out why everyone was being so generous and attentive to him and then blushing like a schoolgirl (or school robot?) when he thanked them.  Though for the last part, McCree did say no one expected him to say thank you, so that could explain their reactions.  Still, it did not explain their kindnesses, almost as if they had been persuaded to do so by someone who had been used to getting what they want all their life and who then suffered a terrible fate which allowed them to leverage that in order to convince others to do what they want…

“Genji,” Hanzo said aloud in sudden realization.

Zenyatta and Bastion glanced in his direction, then to where he was staring.

“Genji, I know you’re hiding over there!”

The faint glimmer of neon green by the courtyard entrance blinked out suddenly, and Hanzo could no longer sense the cyborg’s presence.  Shaking his head, Hanzo gave into laughter.  As a child, Genji could never stay hidden for long from Hanzo, and it seemed that had not changed much over the years.  The second he calmed down, he tied his hair back up again, picked up his bow and quiver.  With a quick bow, Hanzo thanked Zenyatta and Bastion again, then ran off.

At the entrance to the courtyard, Genji had left behind Hanzo’s sake flask. Empty now, Hanzo realized as he picked it up.  There was also the faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air which should not be there, and Hanzo had to wonder if Genji actually consumed the entire contents of the flask, milk and sake both.

“Idiot,” he muttered red-faced, hurrying down the hallway.

Hanzo ended up making two rounds through the main floor, unable to actually locate his brother, though he could hear his whisper-soft footsteps a short distance away.  Finally, he entered his room, closed the door almost all the way, and waited by the opening for Genji.  Sure enough, within five minutes, Hanzo heard him sneaking down the hallway towards his room.  Then he heard Genji stop a few paces away, move further up the hallway, pause, then hesitantly edge closer until he was almost at the door. 

As soon as Genji was within reach, Hanzo tore open the door and grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into his room, shutting the door behind him.

“Ahhh, anija!” Genji yelped.

“Genji, are you drunk?” Hanzo asked sternly.

“Wh-what are you talking about?”  This was accompanied by a nervous, breathless laugh.

“You actually drank from my sake flask?  The entire flask?  All at once?”

“Yeah?  That was what I was supposed to do, right?  That’s why you gave it to me.  Couldn’t let that milk spoil and go to waste.”  He made a little heh heh sound.

Hanzo let go of him so he could drag both hands over his face in exasperation.  “Genji.  I had hoped that you were able to retain common sense after I killed you, but I see that is clearly not the case.  There was sake in that flask, not a lot, but also, you don’t have a liver or a significant amount of blood.  You shouldn’t have done such a stupid thing.”

“Well, I am _not_ drunk,” Genji said in the practiced tone of someone who was used to making this statement to the cops in the face of all evidence proving otherwise.

“I heard you coming from the other hallway.”

“Okay, but you didn’t catch me.”

“Until a minute ago, yes.”  Hanzo steered him towards his bed and sat him down, tried to look concerned and not angry.  “What’s wrong, Genji?”

“Nothing is wrong.  Everything is fine, anija.”

It may have been ten years of separation and even longer of estrangement, but Hanzo could tell when Genji was not feeling well and this was absolutely one of those times.  “Genji… are you hurting?  Are you upset?  You can tell me.”

Genji shook his head.  Hanzo sat down next to him, put a hand on the side of his faceplate.  “Show me, Genji, if you truly are all right.”

“No.”  He made no move to remove his faceplate and Hanzo was forced to utilize his last resort move by reaching down and tickling Genji’s sides.  Genji shrieked with laughter, tried to bat Hanzo’s hands aside.

“So you _are_ drunk!” Hanzo declared in triumph.

“Nooo, you tricked me!” Genji retorted, just realizing that he could not be tickled in his cyborg body.

“I won, so you better do as I say.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Reluctantly, Genji released his mask, a soft hiss of steam escaping.  He set the faceplate aside before lifting his gaze to Hanzo, eyes bloodshot, the tip of his nose red and running.

Maybe he was still a little unstable, because Hanzo could not help the sting in his own eyes seeing his little brother suffering so.  “Have you been crying, Genji?”  He knew Genji still could cry, a little bit.  “Who hurt you?  I’ll kill them.  Was it McCree?”

At that, Genji laughed.  “No, it wasn’t McCree, although I guess he may have been involved a little bit.”

“I’ll bust his kneecaps, then, Angela can deal with that.”

Genji laughed again.  “No, Hanzo, please don’t.  It was me, okay?  I made a mistake that I really wish I hadn’t made.  Don’t break my kneecaps, though, hah.”  He tried to sigh, and his breath caught, and then all of a sudden, he could not hold himself back and he began to cry.  Loud and earnest sobs that tore at the air.

Not knowing what else to do, Hanzo put his hand awkwardly on Genji’s shoulder, patting it.  Which prompted Genji to wrap his arms around Hanzo and tuck his face against his older brother’s neck.  Hanzo let Genji cry and complain and get a surprising amount of snot on his gi as he stroked the metal and synthetic back under his hands soothingly.  All the while, he kept saying, “Genji, Genji, your brother is here with you now.”

Of course, since Genji was in actuality extremely drunk, he passed out in Hanzo’s arms within the next few minutes and began to breathe as if he were snoring.  At least he was still breathing, Hanzo thought, lowering Genji’s body onto his bed and tucking him under McCree’s serape.  Genji stirred a little, did not settle until Hanzo slid under both of the blankets beside him, although he snuck in another swig from his sake bottle before he did, just in case.

Hanzo was just about to fall asleep himself, hoping that he would be lucky enough to be left unconscious for 80% of the day two days in a row in the future, when he noticed Genji’s hand had somehow made it to his breast.  Well, he did vow to be nicer to Genji, and so he did not move the hand away. Even after it squeezed.

“What?” Genji muttered sleepily.  “It feels nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God fucking damn, still thinking about that Omnic. I’m a dirty robot fucker I guess. Anyway, I thought I could finish this fic within a fic but I am too drained (read drunk) to deal with the McCree subplot, which is a telenovela in of itself. So it’s actually more like 3 fics in a fic now, lmao. Anyway... stay tuned... I'm gonna do my best to finish within the next 2 weeks, I have several bottles of wine ready to go, gonna try.


	8. Chapter 8

Nice things do not last forever, Genji thought in a daze, because just when he was about to grab Hanzo’s other breast, Hanzo shook him by the shoulder urgently.

“Now that I know you’re awake, get up, Genji.”

“Whaaat?  I’m still sleeping!” Genji responded groggily, trying to cop one last feel but missing completely when Hanzo sat up and out of his reach.

“You need to drink some water before you get a hangover,” Hanzo told him sternly.

“I think I’m already getting one,” Genji whined.

Hanzo did not answer, just hauled him to a sitting position and pushed a water bottle into his hands.  Genji tried to convince Hanzo, not for the first time in his life, to give him the water by mouth, but his older brother just glared at him, declaring him sober enough to drink on his own with the expertise of someone who has self-medicated himself for years.  Taking a swig from the bottle, Genji began to feel the first wave of regret of chugging the entire contents of the flask between his meeting with McCree and now. 

“This… isn’t as fun as I had thought…” he muttered, despondent as he swallowed some more water with difficulty.  Guiltily, Genji remembered crying in front of Hanzo, that miniscule amount of alcohol overwhelming his finely tuned body’s physical limits as well as his emotional restraints.  At least he managed to stop short of specifying why he had been upset.

“Next time just dump it out,” Hanzo said disapprovingly, taking the water bottle back and setting it aside.  “Don’t risk making yourself sick.  You will not be lucky enough to get a new body from Angela if something should happen.  And what if she investigated the contents of your stomach?”

“I know, I should be more careful.  Sorry to make you worry, Hanzo, I really am,” Genji muttered, sliding back under the covers.

Settling beside him, Hanzo frowned, eyebrows creased in remorse.  “Genji… you say sorry too often when I should be the one apologizing.  I am at least partly responsible for you now, remember?”  With a sigh, he tucked the blankets back over Genji.  Then he placed a hand on top of Genji’s stomach, meant to be comforting, but Genji froze under the faint pressure, thrown off guard by Hanzo’s continued indulgence of his neediness for touch this long after the lactation had stopped.  He felt the heat emanating from Hanzo’s palm pass through the blankets and into his own body without resistance, and the blood rushed to his cheeks in response.  Even when the others hugged him or patted his shoulder, he never picked up on their body heat this strongly.  Was it because it was Hanzo, whom he remembered how it felt to touch when he was human?   Maybe he was simply drunk off sake-flavored milk, and hung up on the fact that it came from his brother.  (Which… he supposed anyone would be hung up on if they thought about it.)

“Last night, you said that I must think your body is weird…” Hanzo began a little uncertainly, eyes not quite meeting Genji’s own, on account of pretty much everything being weird as of late.  “I… have long considered what to say to you since you first showed yourself.  I still don’t know what to think.  I have so many questions, but… I will get there, I promise, Genji.”  Hanzo moved his hand over to Genji’s chest, where below the heartbeat struggled fast against the carefully regulated pace programmed into the muscle.  “You say that your heart is still the same?”

“It is, anija.  The same heart that grew up with yours.”  The heart that has never stopped caring for you, even when it resented you the most, he added to himself.

“Then… that is all I need to know.  That your heart still beats in this world, though the body that houses it has changed.  I am glad,” Hanzo breathed.  His mouth twisted unhappily, as if he wished to add something else but could not find the words; instead he just gave Genji’s head another awkward pat.

“I am by your side, anija,” Genji replied quietly.  “It took a while, but I am here with you now.”

“Yes, I…  Thank you for trying for me, Genji.”  In a softer voice, weary and grateful all at once, Hanzo went on, “You forgave me, even though I don’t deserve it.  No matter what it takes, I will work to become worthy of your forgiveness.”

Genji shook his head.  “Hanzo, you don’t have to do anything like that.  I know I make you uncomfortable, and you’re not happy here, you don’t trust anyone, I heard you say so to Zenyatta.  If you ever want to leave, I would be sad, because I don’t want you to go, but… I’ll help you find a way out.  I will make sure you’d be left alone.  It’s what I trained all my life for, I can do it.”  All that fancy dodging and wall-climbing and deflecting projectiles, which their father had urged him to master as soon as he could run in order to protect his brother the heir, he would utilize however would help Hanzo the most.  Hanzo, who ever since he was born could not find respite from those who decided how his life should be lived.  As much as Genji wished his brother would accept this life as a member of Overwatch in a new home with new family and friends, he knew in his heart that Zenyatta was right: he was no better than the elders who had ordered his death if he kept trying to coerce Hanzo into these decisions already made for him.  Should Hanzo want to leave, he must take responsibility, the way he never did as a young man, and help him leave.  “Don’t force yourself, okay?  You’ve done enough already.”

“So you were listening to us the whole time,” Hanzo said, looking self-conscious.  “Listen, Genji, whatever misgivings I may have had, I still chose to join of my own accord in the end.  I do not feel forced, though I suppose I haven’t adjusted as well as I could have…”

“Hey, you don’t like change, you can’t help that.”  Genji let out his breath in a gusty sigh, not in relief as much as resignation.  “I guess… sometimes I feel like asking you to join Overwatch with me had been a mistake.  I just don’t want you to hold that against me.”

“Ah, so this is what you were worried about?” Hanzo asked wryly.

“Uh, yeah, that, among other things.”

“Interesting.  I didn’t know you still had the brain cells to think about more than one thing at one time.  It must be difficult, I am sorry for causing your head to hurt.”

“Wow, okay, I thought you were going to be nice to me for a second there, but guess you’re still an asshole after all,” Genji grumbled.

“Someone has to be, otherwise you will lose your edge,” Hanzo replied, straightforward as ever.  “They are too soft on you here.” 

Hanzo reached for his face purposefully, and Genji automatically winced and pulled away, wary of being pinched on the ear or nose again as per usual.  But instead Hanzo rested his hand against Genji’s roughened cheeks, brushing a callused thumb gently over his mangled lips.  In apology, in affection, or maybe just to mess with him; Genji thought any of the three could be likely.

“Are you saying you’re not soft?” Genji eventually murmured, unable to stop tiny involuntary shivers of pleasure at the touches, which were causing his internal mechanisms to hum and whir in bliss.  He very rarely showed anyone his face, only Angela and Hanzo got the dubious honor these days, and so to be touched in the few areas of his body that still had most of its original nerve endings this intimately, for the first time in years; it was as if he had never felt a human touch before, so intensely did his body crave more.

“Hmm… I suppose it depends on your point of view.”  Hanzo leaned further over him, intrigued despite himself by his brother’s reactions to each stroke of his fingers against the exposed skin.  When he finally drew his hand away, Genji grabbed him by the forearm, turned his face in towards his wrist to nuzzle it momentarily.  “So needy,” Hanzo admonished him, though he was smiling as he did so, a little wavering quirk of his lips. In pleasant silence, Hanzo continued to caress Genji’s face, while Genji stewed in regret about not knowing how to take off his armor because Hanzo’s still soft breasts were definitely pressed up against his own chest now, the cleavage so deep from where the gi dipped low, and he tragically could not feel a thing.

“You’re vibrating,” Hanzo observed after a moment.  “A lot.”

“Because I like anija like this,” Genji muttered drowsily, unable to stop from grinning or keep his body from thrumming in deep satisfaction.

“Then I should stop.”  But Hanzo did not.

When it seemed Genji would doze off again, Hanzo ceased his petting at last and leaned back onto one arm, saying quietly, “I admit I am not used to people thinking about me and hoping for my happiness, especially you, after all the trouble you’ve caused me in the past.  But I want your happiness as well.  You are my only family left, you are home to me, Genji.”  After another pause, Hanzo continued, a little more faintly this time, “Don’t worry about me, I will be fine.  I look forward to much here, when before there was nothing good in my life.”

“So… like what?” Genji asked, blinking blearily in confusion.  “Endless sake?”  He could not even remember Hanzo’s hobbies from when they lived in Hanamura, and thus drew a blank when it came to listing his interests now.  Math stuff, probably. Hunting and survival skills perhaps…

“I was going to say seeing you fight so skillfully, and knowing your spirit dragon flies once more, but… yes, mostly the sake,” Hanzo conceded with an amused look.

“What about… McCree?” Genji interjected, uncertain if he wanted to hear the answer, but not wanting to pass up this rare opportunity either.

Hanzo said nothing however, though his expression indicated he felt a lot of things about McCree, which was at least a step up from nothing, his usual response when asked about the blind dates his brother had set him up with in years long gone by.  Try as he might, Genji could not find the confirmation he sought in Hanzo’s face.  He wondered if he even knew his brother that well at all.

“Hanzo?”

“You should rest now, Genji.”

“Anija…”  _Just tell me that you might one day love him back,_ he thought, _so I can know that you will be happy and taken care of, and I don’t have to keep wondering about what could have been…_

“I will be back later, after I run some errands,” Hanzo told him, still disregarding the question.  “Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna,” he was about to mutter, but Hanzo simply passed a hand over his brow and Genji felt his eyelids slide closed instinctively.  He struggled to stay conscious but eventually gave up, flashes of blue and crimson soon fading to blackness in his vision as he succumbed to slumber.

 

* * *

 

As brothers, they rarely spoke directly to each other for any considerable length of time, not since they became teenagers.  There had been a lot of lecturing on his part, teasing from Genji, and yelling from both once they received their dragon tattoos and were recognized as the heirs to the Shimada clan.  Even now, it was hard to keep up a normal conversation before one or both would get distracted, or start yelling.  But Hanzo tried his utmost to keep track of everything, as something he could do to organize his increasingly contradicting thoughts, wrest back some control over his own life.  While Genji slept off the alcohol in his bed, Hanzo mulled over what he could as he snuck his dirty laundry and McCree’s serape to the washing room to get them cleaned before the evening.  The scattered thoughts darted like fish through his brain, though, and he could not pin them down with any certainty.  Which did he hear from Genji directly, what did he make up on his own?  Was he absolutely certain ideas were not being introduced to his brain from other, more sinister sources?  Everything was starting to blur together in a tumble of alcohol-influenced fragments.

“Did you need help?”

“What?”  Hanzo glanced around him, then down to see Torbjorn at his side.

“With the washer.  You’ve been staring at it for the past ten minutes.”

With the laundry soap in hand, Hanzo noticed in mortification.  “No, I just...”

“Here.”  Taking the soap from Hanzo, Torbjorn put a small amount into the dispenser then inspected the load.  Glancing up at Hanzo, he asked a little concernedly, “You sure you want to put something red with the rest of the laundry?”

“I suppose not.”  Hanzo retrieved the serape from the washer, and when everything was ready to go, Torbjorn pressed the start button.

“Thank you,” Hanzo muttered sheepishly.

“Nothing to it,” the engineer replied, puffing up with pride.  “Let me know if you need help with the dryer.”

“I can figure it out, my thanks, Torbjorn,” Hanzo assured him with a weak smile.

“You won’t be bothering me one bit, Hanzo.  Any time, just call me.”

Hanzo’s previous conviction that Overwatch was only using him faltered unsteadily once more upon noticing that Torbjorn, of all people, had just scuttled off red-faced after speaking only five sentences to him.  What was happening to everyone, were they starting to lose their minds as well?  He shook his head, sure that Genji (or perhaps McCree just because it seemed like his area as a former member of Blackwatch) had something to do with it yet not so sure if figuring out the truth behind everyone’s reactions would ease his mind or break it instead. 

Speaking of the devil, Hanzo thought ruefully, staring at the red and gold blanket in his hands.  After some investigation, he found a sewing kit in a cabinet, decorated with an ancient label of “G. Reyes” on its front, and set it on the small table tucked into the laundry room.  His mending was not the most aesthetic work ever, as tailoring had not been considered a necessary skill to teach a yakuza prince, but two of the larger holes in McCree’s serape have now been repaired with almost matching red thread.  It was a minor fix, but doing so had eased the sickening restlessness in his mind somewhat. 

Hanzo wound a snipped off thread remnant around his little finger, smiling a little bitterly at the sight before unraveling it.  Genji would have taken this as a sign of the legendary red string that bound lovers to each other, proof that McCree in his red cape was the star-destined one for Hanzo.  That was how he understood the fairy tales their father told them.  A samurai in shining armor rescues the princess from the witch.  A boy doll becomes real when the fairy rewards his steadfastness.  Good always defeats evil with the power of friendship.  There is true love waiting out there.  Happy endings.

But Hanzo always understood otherwise.  Do not trust the smiling fox in the woods.  Be careful what you wish for.  The gods will always punish those humans who are too proud.  Here there be monsters…  Sometimes they are even inside you.  Tragic lessons.

The two of them had grown to be so different, with such wildly diverging viewpoints, it seemed impossible to hope now that they could regain even a fraction of the closeness they had as children.  And yet sitting at a rickety table on a foreign military base, Hanzo could think of nothing else but his brother’s hands all over his body, his scarred lips pressed against his skin, the blissful smile on his face as they held each other through the night.  It was clear, ironically so, they had gained a different type of closeness in exchange.  Genji’s happiness, experiencing the skin to skin contact he must surely have missed, the ability to show his face without reservation once more, the acts of intimacy shared, it had fueled Hanzo’s own happiness, which further encouraged Genji to ask for more, which caused Hanzo to indulge him further, a positive feedback loop as implacable and irresistible as that of the oxytocin flooding his veins the moment he felt the suction on his nipple.  Hanzo knew he should have stayed cool and distant, should have never let his guard down and spoiled his brother by acquiescing to his demands in the first place, but… nothing could change the fact that it was he who made Genji what he was today.  He owed it to Genji these little things, that did not hurt, that he admittedly liked as well.  Because every smile Hanzo could find on his brother’s face now, however unsettlingly unfamiliar, could chase away for a moment the image that had burned forever into his mind of Genji’s slashed corpse lying lifeless in his arms, bloodied mouth open as if forever asking him why, brother, why.

The buzzer on the washer sounded a little melody, startling Hanzo out of his melancholy.  Almost mindlessly, he dumped the wet load into the dryer, set the button to dry, and sat watching the bedding tumble round and round.  He thought of Genji, eighteen years old, sitting on the edge of his bed, holding on to his big brother’s hand, asking him to run away with him, outlining his ridiculous plans for a future together they could not have possibly have achieved.  All the while, Hanzo had told him no.  Years later, when he did run away from Hanamura in his grief, holing up alone in cheap motel rooms waiting for the next mission or the next group of assassins, Hanzo would recall that summer day, the golden light in his brother’s eyes, the sound of his still boyish voice, and he would imagine what would happen if he had said yes.  It kept him going, those silly daydreams.

Now… would he be able to run away again?  Would he accept Genji’s help in that instance?  Would he take his brother with him?  But he was no genius doctor, he could not fix Genji if something were to happen.  Overwatch had drained their family funds, there would be no support once they cut ties with the organization.  They would truly be on their own…  He thought there may be a chance they could be happy together, though it would not last for long.

Not for the first time, Hanzo then thought of simply accepting McCree as his lover.  How easy would it be to have _him_ take care of everything and make all the decisions.  Finally Hanzo would be safe and adored, he would never be alone or hurt ever again.  McCree was really the only choice for him, Genji was right about that.  But was it really a choice if it was the only option given to him?

Sighing, Hanzo got to his feet, folding the serape into a neat bundle.  Thinking would accomplish nothing, action was required.  He stepped out into the hallway, heading towards the common room when Soldier76 appeared from another hallway in front of him.  Hanzo nodded his head, and to his lack of surprise, Soldier fell in line beside him.

In a gruff voice, Soldier commented, “You smell different today, Hanzo.”

Hanzo almost tripped from stopping so suddenly, all at once worried that the former commander’s superior senses would decipher what was different.  Outwardly, he gave a shake of his head and brought up McCree’s blanket as explanation.

That caused Soldier to pause mid-step and dramatically take off his visor in consternation.  An expression of shocked alarm passed over his face, and he asked, “You and McCree, seriously?”

“No, no, we are just friends.  No matter what he may believe.”

“Oh thank God.  It’s none of my business, but… Jesus Christ, that would have been terrible.  Tacky.”

Feeling just a little insulted, Hanzo sniffed.  Soldier was notoriously strict about enforcing workplace relationship policies at the recommendation of HR, which was a little hypocritical but also completely warranted after the utter destruction and dismantling of Overwatch from last time.  “Even if we were together, which we are not, I assure you we would maintain professional boundaries and focus on the mission-“

“I know, I know.”  With a cynical smile all too familiar to Hanzo, Soldier said, “It’s not easy, fighting a war without an end.  If you need to be with someone to make all this worth it, I’ll defend your decision.  We’re in this together, Hanzo, we have to help each other.  No one else will.”

Hanzo nodded his head respectfully in acknowledgement.  “I understand.”

“McCree’s at the target range if you want to catch him.  Good luck, soldier.”  The former commander gave him a friendly shove in the direction of the practice range, then stalked off to continue his never-ending patrol, but not before calling out to Hanzo to remember to keep the doors open, causing him to flush resentfully red.

* * *

 

Before long, Hanzo found himself alone with McCree and an audience of dummy robots.

Noticing his arrival at last, McCree lowered his arm, tucked Peacemaker back into its holster and flashed him a warm smile.

“Hanzo?  You’re up and about already?  Come for some practice?”  McCree trailed off, expression growing uncertain as he noticed the absence of Stormbow.

Taking a breath, Hanzo summoned an air of calm, the shield he imagined about himself during his worst moments with the outside world.  He held out the folded serape, said, “I’ve come to return this, and to apologize…”

“Aw, what are you apologizing for, Hanzo?  We already said sorry to each other, it’s fine now, right?” McCree interrupted peacefully.  “And if you ask me, I think you should keep the serape, it looks good on ya.  Got my brown one for myself.”

At that, Hanzo had to roll his eyes in distaste.  “The brown one makes you look like mud.”

McCree laughed aloud, saying, “Well, all right, I didn’t think you’d care, but since you insist, Hanzo.”

Just as McCree took hold of the serape, Hanzo said in a rush, “Thank you for lending this to me, McCree.  But you should keep it and give it to someone who would appreciate it and who deserves it better.”

“Err… no one on base needs this more than you, darling,” McCree responded with a fond if somewhat puzzled grin.

“I’m fine now.”  This was a hundred times more difficult than he could have ever imagined, trying to stay firm before those eyes so placid and trusting.  Acting or not, the force of McCree’s open admiration was utterly overwhelming up close, and every one of Hanzo’s misgivings about his intentions threatened to fall one by one.  “I will do better without,” he soldiered on in steady voice.  Finally, Hanzo reached out and grasped the ragged edge briefly.  “I mended a few of the holes for you, since… it did not look as if it would last another year without attention.  Just take it back, McCree, for me.”

“Okay, okay…  Sure thing, sweetheart.   That’s… mighty kind of you to take care of it.”  McCree wrapped the serape around his shoulders and Hanzo relaxed, as if the burden of the cowboy’s affection had lifted off his own shoulders.  But when McCree met his gaze again, something of the smile that lit up his tanned face had dimmed.  He wasn’t an idiot, he didn’t live this long because he couldn’t take a clue.

“This ain’t just about the blanket, huh…”  He scratched at the back of his head, agitated, breathing rapid.

“You’re a good man, Jesse,” Hanzo said, and hearing his name spoken like that, McCree jerked a little.  “I wish I could be the good man you deserve, worthy enough to return your feelings.”

“But you _are_ a good man, Hanzo.  That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Hanzo wanted to laugh in his face.  Wasn’t it obvious?  He wasn’t here to do penance for the crimes of his family or defend humanity from some nebulous enemy.  He was here only because Genji wanted to be here, and he was protecting his teammates because they were among the most powerful in the world, and he depended on them all to keep Genji alive.  Any good deeds he performed, any lives he saved, fortunate, but ultimately incidental.  All he said aloud was, “I am flattered by your faith in me.  But it is wrong of me to give you hope when there is none.  Do not waste your time, McCree.”

“That’s not your decision to make!” McCree said stubbornly.  “What if I want to be with you?”

“Then you are as deluded as I had thought,” Hanzo retorted.  “Listen to me for once, instead of whatever Genji has told you.  He did his best to get us together because he only wants me to be happy, but I cannot… I don’t deserve your love.  I would make you unhappy, that is certain.  I don’t want to risk hurting anyone important.  So please… leave me alone if you truly care.”

“You’re breaking my heart, Hanzo…”  His voice cracked mournfully, and the deep sigh he made after sounded like that of a dying man.  “I don’t think I can leave you alone,” McCree murmured, his thick lashes already starting to darken from held back tears.  “I don’t want to give up on you, and I don’t want you to give up hope, either.  If there’s any chance I can change your mind, I’ll stick around and try…”

“Do I have to beat this into your thick skull for you to understand?” Hanzo ground out through clenched teeth.

Despite his anguish, McCree burst out into a weak helpless chuckle.  “Oh my god, yer adorable, Hanzo.”

Hanzo threw up his hands into the air, making a frustrated sound, and McCree just laughed again.

“All right, all right, if you want some distance, I’ll honor that,” he said placatingly.  “It’s just… you drive me crazy, darling, I can hardly keep my head about me. The day I first saw you, thought I never seen someone so gorgeous and so, so sad.  All I can think of to say around you is that I love you.  Whether or not you accept it from me, I just figured you needed to hear someone say it.  Got a feeling you don’t hear that a lot, am I right?”

“Y-yes… you are correct,” Hanzo stuttered out, at a complete loss by this simple and pure-hearted confession.

“Can’t say I’m not disappointed by all this, of course…” McCree continued, resigned though optimistic, too.  “But it is what it is.  You can always count on me as a friend, though.  I hope that’s okay with you, Hanzo.”

With a begrudging nod, Hanzo said, “I don’t see how that would be an issue between us.  After all you have done for Genji, being his friend when he needed one the most…”  His eyes narrowing in dawning realization, he added, “And something more than a friend as well?”

“Shiiiiit.” McCree let out a low whistle.  “Was… was that the deal breaker?” he asked, scarlet-faced and fumbling.

“Hardly,” Hanzo told him with a sort of jaded smirk.  If he had to limit himself to people Genji had not already tried to sleep with, he would die an old and bitter virgin instead of just old and bitter.  “Don’t worry, McCree.  We are teammates, and to be considered a friend of someone like you… is an honor.”

Hearing this, McCree smiled, his whole demeanor lightening immensely.  “You’re a treasure, Hanzo.  Now c’mere, I think you need a hug.”

“No I don’t.”  Hanzo leaned away, but McCree gave him the full brunt of his patented puppy dog stare, and just as Genji said, he was very good at getting what he wanted that way.  “Fine, but keep your hands above the waist---“

 

* * *

 

With Soldier76’s directions, a somewhat groggy but panicking Genji barged into the scene of McCree holding his brother up in his thick arms while Hanzo objected loudly to this treatment.

“Oh God, my back…” McCree was saying, looking pained. 

Fuming some distance above the ground, Hanzo spat out, “Are you implying I am heavy?!”

“My brother’s not fat!” Genji exclaimed, which on second thought was probably not the greatest warcry ever uttered in the history of ninjas.  “Let him go, McCree!”  That was better.

“Oh, hey, Genji!”

“Genji, tell him to put me down!” Hanzo commanded in Japanese.

“Hmm, you feel a little squishier than I would have guessed, Hanzo…” McCree muttered with a thoughtful squeeze to whatever parts of Hanzo he was gripping.  “Maybe you should lay off the sweets?”

Hanzo’s face turned white, Genji’s would have too if it could, but at the moment, he concentrated on trying to pry his brother out of the cowboy’s embrace.  “Stop manhandling my brother when he’s sick and then commenting about his weight, McCree,” Genji scolded.  “That is not very charming at all!”

“Aww, Genji, buddy… guess I should tell you, we’re not like that, at least not yet.”

“Not ever,” Hanzo corrected him icily.

“O-oh…?  So you’re not… together?”  This came as a surprise, as McCree had been so madly in love, and was very used to being lucky.  Genji almost felt a little sad for him, but apparently he seemed to have adjusted to Hanzo’s rejection well enough.  He perked up then, relieved to know it went well, for the time being anyway.

“The two of us are just friends,” Hanzo elaborated, “unless you persist in picking me up like this, McCree, we can progress to enemies very quickly in that case.”

“Yikes, sorry about that, sweetheart.”  McCree set Hanzo down on his feet with a big grin.  “Just didn’t want to keep craning my neck looking at you all the way down there.”

 

* * *

 

 

About fifteen minutes later in the infirmary, McCree was putting an ice pack to his newly acquired black eye.

“So… you got that because you called Hanzo small?” Angela asked, giving him a not very sympathetic look.

“Well, pocket-sized, but yeah, small-ish.”

 “And the rest of this?”

“I err… called the both of ‘em cute, too.”  And they had done a number on his kneecaps in response. The injuries had been completely worth it, though.  McCree had been worried about Hanzo, who was just so messed up and unable to move on, and recently he had some concerns about Genji in that area as well, but whatever had happened between them recently seemed like it made decent progress into their strained relationship.  If their cooperation in beating him up was any indication, anyway.

“It is good that you happened to be wearing some sort of knee protection against former yakuza,” Angela said evenly.  “I would like to suggest another form of protection.  It is called a filter, and it lies somewhere between your brain and your mouth.”

“Yeah, I know, filter,” McCree grumbled, “Reyes told me about it once.”

“Sometimes if you use it, you can save yourself a lot of trouble.”

“All right, I got it, I was stupid and I deserved this.”

“What are we going to do with you, Jesse?” Angela sighed, but she was smiling as she adjusted the healing transmission that was knitting up McCree’s shattered left patella.  “If they are like this around you, then I don’t think you can ever succeed bringing them in for a physical.  I may have to ask Roadhog…”

“Give me another chance, Angela!”

Far above them, on a rooftop lit by a single communication tower’s lights and a thin sliver of a moon, Hanzo and Genji were deciding what to do with the bloodied Peacemaker they used to beat McCree with, as it had been a while since either one had to get rid of evidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late and I ended up not finishing after all, I wasn't in a great place mentally and kept rewriting this chapter a million times, but found some encouragement to continue when I logged in and saw that this fic, for whatever reason, got the most kudos out of anything I wrote. Thanks, everyone. This was a lot of boring tbh, but I am happy to have gotten it written out, so yep. The brofucks will happen in the next and hopefully final chapter, then that's it!! Somewhat happy ending considering how messed up this situation is!!
> 
> I made a tumblr (shame-on-yall.tumblr.com) for anyone interested, it's just got the one fanart a cool person made at the moment, but if I do any more Overwatch stuff (art and comics), I want to archive it there, too. Fair warning, don't get your hopes up, I'm not a great artist either, lmao...
> 
> Also, I'm really flattered that people think I can write McHanzo, like 7 of you have asked already, but goodness no, let's leave that to the experts.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very long haphazard kinda interlude that was not meant to be part of the fic, but I'm including here because it explains a few loose ends in the previous chapters and maybe some people like to know. I know I said one more chapter (several chapters ago), but now I mean it. At minimum... lmao. Anyway, I hope this y'all enjoy this long-awaited "teat," it's been an "udder-"ly wild ride.

From this dizzying height, Hanzo gazed out over the black ocean before him, lit by a thin curve of moon and scattering of stars.  The gusty wind snapped at his hair tie, and for a second, he wondered what it would be like to just step over the edge.  End his worry and guilt and hopelessness in the fall and the water.

But then Genji was tugging at his hand, saying something, and with a forced smile, Hanzo turned towards him, following after quietly as they scaled down the perimeter wall instead of using a perfectly serviceable ladder on the other side.

“I found a well,” Genji was saying.  “We could stash it in there?”

The Peacekeeper he had been holding onto, when did Genji take it back?  He doesn’t even have any pockets.  “What is a well doing on a cliffside?” Hanzo asked instead.

“I don’t know,” Genji replied with a shrug, leading the way towards the back of the base.  “Let’s look.”

The well, located in a rarely used courtyard, was bordered by a smooth metal rim, about a meter across, very dark and almost certainly not used for obtaining water these days.  Genji dropped a rock into the well, and the two brothers leaned over the edge curiously, waiting to hear the pebble hit the bottom.  When they did not hear any sound for almost a minute, Hanzo suggested that perhaps they should find another place to hide the bloodied gun instead of this apparently endless tunnel.

“Wait, don’t you want to know how far down it goes?  Maybe it leads to the center of the earth!” Genji interrupted. Making a swift hand gesture, he summoned his spirit dragon while Hanzo made a sputtering noise of disapproval.  Still, he couldn’t help watching with interest the bright green light drifting up from Genji’s shoulderblades coalesce into a dragon, though about the size of a fox rather than its usual size, and almost smiled to see it whirl happily around the two of them before diving into the well.  They watched its trailing form slip down into the shadows, and then all of a sudden, they saw nothing but blackness.  Genji’s dragon had disappeared.

Panicked, with Genji’s yelling not helping at all, Hanzo summoned his own spirit dragons.  They materialized in a massive rush of blue light before shrinking down to a reasonable size and darting down recklessly into the well after their brethren.

“Oh wait, there he is!” Genji piped up when they saw a point of green gliding towards them in the company of its siblings. “He’s okay now.  Man, what a little stinker.”

Hanzo whacked Genji on the back of the head lightly.  “You mean, you stink because obviously you were behind this.  Why did you scare me like that?”

Rubbing at his head and laughing, Genji answered merrily, “Anija, I didn’t plan it, I promise!  I’ve been wanting to see your dragons for a while, and I guess he managed to understand and pulled that off so you would summon them.  Look, everyone’s safe now, no need to worry.”

With one last suspicious glance at his brother, Hanzo made a hmph sound.  “Very well.  But tell your dragon not to do that again.”  He was just relieved that there wasn’t, for some illogical reason, a monstrous creature living in the well eating pebbles and tiny spirit dragons.

The three dragons did not dissipate right away, but continued to linger in this mortal plane, curling over and nuzzling each other, apparently delighted to be reunited in an instance outside of combat.  At Hanzo’s side, Genji kept cooing at how cute they were, and then all three went up to him to lovingly bump their snouts at his faceplate.  It was disgustingly adorable, and Hanzo’s hackles began to rise in suspicion.

Sure enough, within the next thirty seconds, Genji had grabbed one of the blue dragons behind its neck and tail and exclaimed, “This is the female one, right?!”

“Do not!” Hanzo warned.

“How can you tell, do you know?” Genji muttered, not that he could do any inspecting with the dragon writhing frantically in his grasp and Hanzo trying to pry it out of his fingers.

“Genji, enough!”  By now the dragon had escaped, joining the other two in watching their masters tussle energetically.

“Ow!  Okay, I give up, Hanzo!  Let me go!”

Huffing from the adrenaline racing through his veins, Hanzo freed Genji from the headlock and got to his feet, brushing off the dust from his hakama.  “You are a terror, Genji.  If there is one that that hasn’t changed about you, it’s that.  As I have said, they are agender, and are wise and noble creatures, not accomplices for your pranks.”

With a breathless chuckle, Genji got up, replying, “You are no fun at all, anija.”

“At least we have confirmed that there is a bottomless well on base now.  Anyway, I believe it may be best to just return McCree’s gun to him tomorrow, as he would be useless without it, which would affect the outcome of any mission.”

“I’ll take it back to him!” Genji volunteered, as his dragon draped itself around his neck comfortingly.  “And what should I tell McCree?  Sorry Hanzo broke your heart and then we beat you up and took your gun?”

“Well, he deserved it,” Hanzo said with an indignant frown, and his own dragons alighted delicately on his shoulders.  “He upset you, and also squeezed me.”

“So merciless, Hanzo, a shattered kneecap for each bodypart squeezed,” Genji commented.  “Though I am kinda sad that you won’t hook up with McCree.  I had been telling him that he’d grow on you soon enough, now you tell him you just want to be friends.”

“You obviously don’t know me that well if you think I would ever become romantically involved with someone so uncouth and smelly and noisy-“

“I know you well enough, that you won’t risk doing anything that you think will make you feel happy because you think you don’t deserve it.”  Genji stepped forward and put his hands on either side of Hanzo’s face, so that their gazes met.  “But I’m telling you, Hanzo, you’ve suffered enough already, now you are forgiven, now you have a place to belong, so you deserve to be happy.  Don’t be afraid to accept Jesse’s love, because he does love you, and will forgive you no matter how many times you break his kneecaps.  You’re not going to get that from anyone else here, believe me.”

Hanzo only shook his head, closing his eyes briefly before sighing, his two dragons copying his motions.      

Laughing at the familiar gesture, Genji withdrew his hands, patting his brother’s shoulders a few times, getting a few playful nips from Hanzo’s dragons for his trouble.  “Am I right, though?” he persisted.

“You really aren’t the Genji I know,” Hanzo said at last, with something of a wry grin curving his lips.

“What are you talking about?  I’ve always been me, just in a different body now!” Genji objected.  His own dragon flared bright green as if in emphasis.

“The Genji I knew…” Hanzo retorted, though more in amusement than out of any real anger, “was a lazy and selfish brat who would have never bothered to look after his sick older brother, or learned how to cook.  He would not have cared if his brother got along with his ruffian friends or not, although trying to set up a date with a ridiculous American cowboy is certainly a classic Genji maneuver.  That Genji did nothing that was not for his own entertainment.”  Folding his arms and huffing under his breath, Hanzo continued, a little more seriously, “I said that you don’t know me that well, but I suppose I know you even less than I did back then.  You have changed from the spoiled brother I had mourned into a… something else.  Not just your body, but what you say, how you move, the companions you associate with and how their influences show in your behavior.  You aren’t my Genji.”

“Y-you’re kidding, anija… you’re kidding me…” Genji blurted out, shocked, his earlier confidence devastated.  He thought he had been doing so well getting back into his former sparrow persona, to reassure Hanzo’s doubts, to help him adjust to a new environment and even odder coworkers by acting as if nothing changed in ten years, but in just a few sentences, Hanzo had confirmed his secret fears.  “I... I am still Genji, I’m still in here,” he said, holding his hand to his armored chest. “They didn’t erase me, no one’s changed me.  I’m still your little brother, Hanzo.  Hanzo… anija…  Anija!”  He repeated his brother’s title, the pet name only he was allowed to use when addressing Hanzo ever since he first learned to speak, pleadingly, desperately.

Still, Hanzo did not look at him, his gaze instead directed at the night sky over the sea.  “Of course you are my brother.”

“You believe me, right?  Surely… you trust me?”  He felt himself shake, almost toppling despite the inner machinery that kept him perfectly poised and balanced.

“I do.  You are Genji.  Your dragon, your skills… That can be of none other than Shimada Genji.”

It was not quite the solid assurance he hoped for, but Genji nodded, his breath flowing out in a shuddering, jerky motion, his limbs settling back into place.  To his surprise, Hanzo then stepped forward to hold him somewhat awkwardly by the upper arms, and he leaned in close enough to bump his brow against Genji’s forehead protector.

“Listen, if I weren’t positive you are my brother, would I have let you get away with even a fraction of the mischief I’ve endured already?” Hanzo asked simply. 

Momentarily stunned, Genji suddenly let out a laugh in sheer relief, throwing his arms around Hanzo who did not back away in time and sending all three of the dragons tumbling startled into the air.

“Anija!  I missed you so, so much.  Even when you yell at me or mock me or scold me, I’ve missed all of that.  I didn’t even realize how much I missed you, all the good and the bad, until now.”  He nosed at his brother’s cheek affectionately, who flushed deeply and grumbled.

“I missed you, too, Genji.  Obviously.”

 “And I’ve missed these…” Genji added, letting go so he could slip his hands under Hanzo’s gi and squeeze the pectorals there.

“Genji!” Hanzo hissed, grabbing his wrists and yanking them away.

“Man, I’m glad one of us managed to keep the family bustline alive and well,” Genji teased, twisting his arm free and getting in one more good grope.  “You bring honor to the Shimada name, Hanzo.”

“Not out here, you idiot!”  With an irritated gesture, Hanzo clutched the collar of his gi tightly, muttering, “There could be surveillance cameras, or a sniper on the communication tower.  Wait until we are back in our rooms.”

At the suggestion, Genji perked up.  “You mean I can do it later?  So I can sleep with you tonight?

For a moment, Hanzo seemed to be seriously considering it, but to Genji’s disappointment, he eventually shook his head no.  “Not tonight, another time.”

“Anijaaaa, why noooot…?” Genji couldn’t help but whine.

“I promise you, Genji, just be patient for now,” Hanzo told him.  “We will have all the time to… bond soon enough.”

“I will hold you to that, anija,” Genji demanded, not bothering to hide his eagerness.

Hanzo nodded, smiling despite his previous annoyance.  Just one quick glance up through his eyelashes and Genji found himself enraptured in an instant. Unconsciously he leaned forward, one cybernetic hand reaching to cradle the back of Hanzo’s neck.  His eyes widening for a second, Hanzo did not make any other motion, letting Genji in to gently brush the white metal of his mask against his cheeks longingly. 

“Genji…” Hanzo murmured, his lips parting in a barely audible sigh.

Then Genji made a sound of disgust; Hanzo’s eyes snapped open once he realized he had been closing them for some reason.

“What?  What happened?!” he asked urgently.

“Nothing, I just uhh licked the inside of my faceplate by accident.” 

“You what?  Why were you…?  I-I hope it was clean?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s sterile in here, just not so much on the outside.”  Hoping to recapture the moment of rare closeness they were sharing, Genji moved forward again, but Hanzo was already turning away, walking briskly to the entrance of the base.

“It is late, we should get back,” Hanzo was saying.  “You need to return McCree’s gun, remember?” Against Hanzo’s shoulder, twin trails of blue light sunk into the fabric of his clothing and into his skin, and at the same time, Genji could feel the cool otherness of his spirit dragon returning to his own not-quite body.

“Right…”  McCree… Genji sighed, not looking forward to that conversation.  Well, he made his best effort to get his friend and brother together, it wasn’t his fault that things did not work out.  It would have been nice, to know Hanzo finally experienced the American landmark if you will that was Jesse McCree’s dick, to have someone else capable look after him and cherish him even half as much as Genji did.  But Hanzo had his completely understandable paranoia which made him wary of the former Overwatch members, the organization responsible for taking his brother’s body and breaking apart his clan.  It would likely be a long time before he would speak to Winston and Angela and Lena alone, so the fact that he consented to being friends with Jesse should be considered kind of a victory.  In the meantime, Genji would have to win over Hanzo by himself, convince him that not all Omnics were that unstable, and even though they were nearly all former criminals and renegades and had massive bounties on their heads just like Hanzo had claimed, they were also friends and family here.

Not an easy task (Junkrat’s presence on the team for example was extremely difficult to justify to anyone), but at least Hanzo seemed somewhat willing to be convinced now.  For that, Genji was thankful.

“Hey, where are you going?” he called out softly.  “The private quarters are this way.”

“Dinner, I skipped dinner…” Hanzo muttered in mild distress.

Turning, Genji caught up to Hanzo in a few noiseless steps.  “I’ll go with you,” he whispered.

“I know the way to the kitchen, I can go myself,” Hanzo replied.  “It’s not as if you still need to eat.”

“That was all your doing, if you remember,” Genji shot back gleefully, then in a quieter voice, begged,  “Please, Hanzo, let me stay with you?”

Being reminded of his past transgression with a formally worded request stacked on top, which Genji almost never used if he could get away with the casual form, Hanzo had to acquiesce.  “If you insist, then I will not stop you, Genji.”

 

* * *

 

 

Despite his better judgement, Hanzo even allowed Genji to hold his hand, as if they were children again, the young heir of Hanamura leading his toddler brother to the restroom in the middle of the night.  He had of course rolled his eyes and shook his head when Genji first clutched at his fingers, for the last thing he needed was to think of Genji as a baby and thus further indulge his little brother’s childish whims to the disastrous extent that resulted in his death ten years prior.  But the temptation to fall back into old habits soon overpowered any common sense, and leaning heavily onto Genji’s side, holding his bicep for support with his other hand, Hanzo could excuse their contact by affecting some lingering weakness.

Just for now, he thought wistfully, while we still can.  Beside him, Genji slowed his steps to match his pace, the metal joints of his hands curling protectively over Hanzo’s fingers.

“So, you’re sure about Jesse?”  At Hanzo’s grunt of contempt, Genji continued, “Don’t get mad, it’s just so I know what to tell him.”

“I already told him what I felt and he eventually agreed with me,” Hanzo said sharply, “so just give him back the gun with an apology and then leave immediately in silence.  There is no need for any more of your interfering.”

“Not interfering, wing-manning,” Genji corrected him.

“On account of you having slept with him before?”  Hanzo tried to not sound like this fact irritated him; it shouldn’t, for Genji was very free with his affections in the past, and Hanzo had actually been exceedingly content knowing that at least one of them would be loved by the people of their village… but to know that McCree gave up Genji to instead pursue Hanzo… seemed very backward and strange.  “Not that I care, I should add.”

Genji let out a noise that could only be described as somewhere equidistant between a cough and a snort and a laugh.  “Ah, no need to get jealous, anjia, that was all in the distant past.  There were benefits to our friendship, that’s all, which I would still highly recommend to you even though you think Jesse is a stinky uncultured oaf.  Just… hold your breath a lot when he kisses you.”

“Genji, tell me the truth. Why are you so invested in getting us together?  What are you getting out of this?  I don’t understand, I thought you might have wanted to live vicariously through me,” Genji giggled at that, which he frankly had every right to, “Then what is it?!” Hanzo asked helplessly under his breath.

Scratching at the back of his head, despite not actually really needing to, Genji hesitated and then said, “Well, no one in their right mind will sleep with you, and I dunno, it kinda pains me that my now incredibly attractive and no longer ugly brother will remain unfucked until his death while I, an expert on these matters, still have the power to do anything about it.”

So crude, Hanzo thought with a wince, but it seemed Genji’s personality, matured through the years by Angela and Zenyatta’s compassion (he can only assume), had at least developed some empathy for others, even if it seemed to be centered primarily on sexual gratification.  “First of all,” he stated primly, “I am not a virgin.”

“What?! This is the first I’ve heard about that!”

“Secondly, I do have other choices than McCree.”

“This is the first I’ve heard about that, too!”

Now thoroughly embarrassed, but also a little proud he could surprise his brother, even if Genji was being rather insolent about it at the same time, Hanzo murmured, admitting that he was insulting himself in the process, “I am simply asking why you think everyone here is in their right mind.”

Genji’s only response was a soft scream and something along the lines of “holy fucking shit.”

 

They soon approached the kitchen, pausing at the edge of the square of bright white thrown by the fluorescent lights against the floor, wondering who could still be up this late cooking food.  It turned out Mei had glimpsed them, most likely Genji’s telltale glow, and she hurried over to the threshold, asking if they needed something she could help with.

“Hanzo was hungry,” Genji started, while at his side Hanzo shushed him and interjected with, “I do not need anything, thank you, Mei, we will be on our way now.”

 “Oh, but you must still be feeling weak from your illness, Hanzo,” Mei insisted in a gently concerned tone.  “Zarya and I made plenty of food to share, we don’t want you falling sick again because you didn’t have enough to eat!  Come with me, Hanzo, we’ll get you taken care of.”  As she was saying this, she held out her arm, which Hanzo reluctantly took out of politeness, while Genji on his other arm whispered, “oh my god.”

Somewhat unusually, Genji insisted on squeezing into the same chair at the little kitchen table as Hanzo, one armored hip almost halfway on his lap, projecting an air of watchfulness as Mei scuttled off to check on the steaming dumplings and Zarya served Hanzo a bowl of some hearty beef and vegetable stew from the pot.  Hanzo delicately refused Zarya’s attempts to serve him a sample spoonful, trying to ask why they were eating so late at night, but as he opened his mouth to inquire, she got him anyway and he had to swallow or have it all drip out.  Mercifully, she also motioned towards Genji’s faceplate, who calmed down and shook his head no but thanked her and requested she save a small bowl of the liquid for him for later.

“These are the frozen kind, but I hope they taste good?” Mei asked, cheeks still tinged rosy pink from when she had been tending to the dumplings on the stove, and Hanzo assured her the plump pork and leek-filled buns were delicious.  Thanking them for sharing their meal, Hanzo dabbed at his chin with a napkin and asked the reason for them staying up so late to eat.

“Night shift,” Zarya said. 

When Hanzo remained confused, Mei explained, “It seems Soldier wanted to keep watch again tonight, on account of him hearing suspicious noises last night, but Angela said he should try to get a full eight hours of sleep instead.  Zarya and I managed to get him to bed after promising we’ll keep watch in his place.”

“Is that so?” Hanzo murmured, trying to not look panicked at Genji’s direction.  Soldier hadn’t been sleep-walking at all; what if he heard and saw everything?  “May I ask what sort of suspicious noises?”

“He did not specify.  He decided they were harmless in the end, but asked us to remain vigilant throughout the night for the next few days.”

“A wise decision.  Well, I wish you both a peaceful and uneventful shift, Mei, Zarya.  Thank you again for the meal.”  Feigning a yawn, Hanzo moved to his feet, dumping Genji out of his lap, managing to collect his bowls and spoons before Mei and Zarya could take them from him.  He quickly rinsed his dishes in the sink, slightly encumbered by Genji soon pressing up against his back and wrapping his arms about his waist.

“Hey, the concealer lasted all this time,” Genji observed, speaking right into his ear, causing Hanzo to almost drop the bowl he was drying.

“Genji!” he warned, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.  “Can you not save it for later, when we are alone?  In the meantime, try to not alarm the rest of our teammates, please.  We may not be so lucky as to escape detection in the future.”

“I know, I know, anija, I’ll behave… for now,” Genji said, one hand sliding away from where it threatened to cup his breast again. 

“Just for now, Genji.”  But the only thing Hanzo wanted was for Genji to do with him as he pleased, to not have to use Hana’s makeup to hide the evidence of their closeness.  To be the villainous figure Overwatch once tried to make him out to be, to be the selfish one of the brothers the elders would not let him be.  To be free to make the terrible and wrong decisions McCree’s love would have saved him from. The secret desires he could never speak aloud to his brother, for fear of this safe haven crashing down around them, separating them again.  All he could do was make these silly little promises, to show that he still loved Genji, no matter what had happened, that he needed Genji’s love in return, even more than before.  “Let’s go.  I need to rest, and you have a cowboy to talk to.”

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as they left the vicinity of the kitchen, Genji murmured wickedly, “Options, huh?  I see that now.”

Hanzo did not take the bait, eager to return to his room and avoid any further mishaps that could be witnessed by some random teammate up past whatever random curfew they had decided for the week.

“C’mon, anija, you had to notice, she practically had her boob on your arm for like a whole minute!”

“I don’t see why all this was such a surprise to you,” Hanzo muttered with a sniff.  “Of course you had me convinced that McCree was the only reasonable choice these past months, but then I realized…”  Though Genji could not express his confusion as visually as he could have years ago, Hanzo seemed to somehow perceive his genuine bewilderment.  “…Did you not persuade the team to do so?”

There was a beat of silence, Genji’s processors almost audibly whirring again in concentration, then another quiet mechanical chuckle.  “Oh my God, you thought I was behind this, too?”

“I _thought_ …”  Hanzo’s eyes widened perceptibly then narrowed as he turned away in visible upset.  “Never mind about that.  Go find McCree.  I’m going to bed!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Genji insisted, stopping in the middle of the hallway and dragging Hanzo to a halt beside him.  “You actually believed I went around asking everyone to be extra attentive to you?  Extra… flirty, even?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Genji, no,” Hanzo hissed, trying to pull his arm free and flee.

“My dear innocent brother,” Genji tutted, clamping down even harder on Hanzo’s bicep.  “I would never do McCree a disfavor such as that.”  He certainly was not going to reveal that in actuality McCree shot himself in the foot on his own, having told anyone who would listen that Hanzo was just exactly like an angry little kitten and really deserved so many hugs, out of consideration for his friend wanting to retain use of his remaining human fingers.  “You see, everyone was being nice to you because… they wanted you to get better… so you can go back to exposing your chest again.”

For a brief moment, Genji thought Hanzo was going to smack him, but it seemed his older brother felt obliged to consider the validity of this statement first.

“Well, such a thing is not going to happen, at least, not in the near future,” Hanzo declared at last.

“What?”  This was not the response Genji had been anticipating.

“Did you not see the weather forecast for the next week?  I already ordered myself a parka.”

As they were right in front of Soldier’s room at that point and did not want to risk the good doctor’s wrath by waking a senior citizen up from his sleep, Genji had to exclaim in a lowered tone, “How could you betray me, all of us, but especially me, like this?!”

Any further discussion got cut off by Winston appearing around the corner, shushing them, but upon seeing Hanzo, his expression softened.  Much to Genji’s almost audible shock.  Hanzo, apparently still clinging to his distrust, managed a short bow of acknowledgement as Winston approached.

“Sorry, Winston, we’ll be off now,” Genji apologized on behalf of Hanzo and himself.

“Oh, you two may proceed,” Winston assured them, “just a little quieter if you could.  We had spent so much effort getting Soldier to bed, he kept swatting away all of Angela’s attempts to tranquilize him.  I did not want to have to call everyone out to repeat the ordeal so soon.”

“Understood.”

“I believe neither of you are due for reconnaissance missions for at least a few days,” Winston continued.  “Please do take advantage of the time to rest and prepare, though.  Your skills and experience are very much needed by the world.”

“Of course, Winston.”

Winston bade them a quiet good night and ambled off, appeased. 

“Good night to you, Genji, and good luck,” Hanzo said softly, slipping free of Genji’s loosened grip and back to his room before his little brother could fully react in time.  With a sad sigh, Genji went to embark on his own solo mission and find McCree yet again.  He had volunteered to do this after all, McCree was his friend, whereas Hanzo was likely still feeling indisposed and antisocial, but once more Genji wished he could just run off and avoid the mess altogether.  Let his brother deal with his mistakes, as he always had before.  But wasn’t that lazy thinking the reason for how they turned out like this?  Genji had promised himself he would take responsibility for his actions, confront the consequences of his decisions, deal with them as he should have in the past instead of counting on his good luck and charms to win him out of trouble.  From this point forward, he had to act like a man, the true Genji he wanted his brother to acknowledge, not the spoiled child Hanzo saw, nor the robotic inhuman.

Patting the sides of his faceplate with both hands once to give himself some resolve and startling himself by the loud sound of not-flesh slapping not-flesh, Genji winced and then slunk off purposefully into the night.

 

* * *

 

 

The problem being that McCree was still not back in his room, leaving Genji to wander the hallways where he came across Zarya on patrol once.  He searched the target range, where they had last left him clutching his crushed knees but still croaking out “aren’t y’all feisty little honeybees” or something to that effect, the infirmary, now empty but for the faint smell of antiseptic cleanser, the closest courtyard, before making his way to the old rec room in the basement level.  There he found McCree in his sleep clothes sprawled out on a couch that had seen better days, watching an old American western projected onto the wall.

“Hey, Jesse.”

“Hey, sugar,” McCree said, glancing over at him with slight alarm.  “Not here to finish the job, are ya?  I just got my knees fixed up by Angela.”

“Nah, just here to return your gun, in case you get sent out tomorrow,” Genji said with a soft chuckle, detaching Peacemaker from his back with a click and handing it back to a grateful McCree, who tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants.

“Should have warned you, Hanzo gets sensitive about comments on his appearance, and won’t shy from dealing corporal punishment.  It’s just how we do things.”  It’s not normal, Genji wanted to add, except that it was.

McCree just shook his head, looking amused and resigned.  “I get it.  That’ll teach me to open my big mouth in the future.”  He sighed, a long huff, and though he kept his tone light, Genji could see sadness pinch at the corners of his drooping eyes.  “You know, I told him I could deal with being friends, Genji, I’d give him space, whatever he wants.  But the truth is, I can’t just turn my feelings off like that.  Don’t know if I really can, least not anytime soon.  I really do like him.”

“Jesse… I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean for it turn out like this.”  First Genji, then Hanzo, breaking that big heart that had already been shattered and patched back together so many times.  Knowing his past, what had happened with Reyes, knowing he couldn’t give McCree the devotion he craved, knowing Hanzo couldn’t give him the attention he needed.  They really were criminals, toying with a man who only wanted to be good.

Running his hands through his hair, McCree glanced at the movie still playing across the wall, then at the battered coffee table in front of him, at the cards scattered across its surface.  “Not as lucky as I thought after all,” he muttered.  “I’m just a damn fool, aren’t I?”

“We all are, sometimes,” Genji replied, though not in a mean way.  He sat down next to McCree, manuevered under the cage of his arm to nestle against his side, basked in that familiar warmth.  “Listen, Jesse…” he murmured, “thank you for trying to talk to my brother even though he has been a total asshole.”

McCree shrugged, but could not refrain from a heh at the accuracy.

“I thought he would eventually see your appeal as I did, and maybe he could change his mind in the future, who knows.  But the fact that he agreed to be friends with you… is a huge deal.”

“Is that so?” McCree rumbled softly, holding Genji close, the way Hanzo never did unless Genji demanded it of him first. 

Nodding slowly, Genji explained, “He did not have any friends when we were kids, did not see the need to make any, and once he gave up his position and left Hanamura after the duel, he lost contact with everyone he knew.  He was on the run, with a price on the head, he probably didn’t meet anyone he trusted.  I know this is the first truly safe place for him in years, and even among those who once conspired to take him down, he finally feels comfortable enough to sleep for eight hours uninterrupted, he bothers to eat with everyone at dinnertime more often than not…”  Genji trailed off, felt his heart clench thinking of Hanzo lying on a dingy mattress somewhere, fully-clothed, one hand on a weapon, unable to nap for more than a few hours at a time, every single night for up to ten years.  Imagined Hanzo distrusting the food his handlers would bring him on his assignments, his cybernetic eyes watering remembering when Hanzo had told him sometimes he would just procure a tin of cat food and eat that instead, on account of no one wanting to go through the effort of injecting poison into cat food.  His voice buzzing with barely restrained tears, Genji added, “I… I’m sure he got this far because of you, Jesse.”

“Aww shucks, that’s awfully generous of you to say, Genji, but I’m preeeetty sure he’s doing this for you?”

“What?”  Genji snorted in disbelief, scorn momentarily wresting control over sadness.  “I am the brother he felt he had to kill to restore honor to the family, remember?  As far as Hanzo’s concerned, I am a zombie brought back from the dead, and also part Omnic, and also a member of the vigilante group who destroyed the clan he was raised his entire life to lead.  I am the shame he could not control while I lived, and my living now is a reminder that he managed to fuck up doing the one thing he’s good at.  I am literally everything that makes Hanzo unhappy in this world, Jesse.  Whatever his reasons, he’s not doing this for me.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Okay, you don’t have any siblings, so you can’t talk.”

“Even so,” McCree stated calmly.  “Maybe Hanzo does feel as you say, I don’t know, but you’re all that’s left of his family.  He absolutely cares about you, Genji, always asks if you’re okay whenever you’re gone on missions, always keeps you in his line of sight on the field, as difficult as that is.  He trusts you, thinks the world of you, though only when you’re not in hearing distance.  He has his reasons, sure, but believe me, Hanzo wants to be here, and you’re a big part of why.  It’s obvious he still loves you, ain’t it?  The way you love him?”

Genji shook his head, grateful his expression remained hidden.  “It’s never been like that between us…”

“Well, maybe you oughtta tell your brother you love him every now and then.  I think he would want to hear it from you.  More than me, anyway, God knows I’ve tried enough times.”

“I-it’s not the Japanese way, we would show our love through actions rather than words.  And our family… wasn’t like other Japanese families.  Bringing home the decapitated head of an enemy, or their fingers, that would be most loving thing one could do.”  It was true, more or less, because it demonstrated loyalty, what the Shimada clan prized the most.  “I don’t think I could… not even in Japanese.”  Despite being the rebellious modernized one in the household, Genji had never once said ‘I love you,’ not even to his girlfriends and boyfriends, all of whom he did fall in love with, if just for a little while.  He was positive his parents never said such a thing to each other, they rarely held hands or kissed even when they thought they were alone.  And while “daisuki, onii-chan!” might have sounded cute when he was five, it did not carry the same meaning, not now that he was thirty years older.  “I’m sure he would think I was drunk. Or teasing him.”  He picked at the metallic joints of his knuckles, a little jittery.  “What, you think I might have lived if we’d just said ‘I love you’ more often?”

“Ehh, probably not.”  McCree reached up to palm at Genji’s skull, pushing him a little forward playfully.  “You were a self-righteous brat back then, I remember you giving Angela and those doctors hell.  Sassing off Reyes.  Threatening to kill us all in our sleep on a regular basis.  Hey now, just like Hanzo said right after he introduced himself to the team!”

“See, I told you I learned it from my brother!” Genji shot back delightedly.

McCree burst out laughing, and in doing so, the years seemed to lift from his posture.  “I don’t doubt it.  You’re a real joker, partner.  Lookie here, got just the card for you.”  He picked up the playing cards in one smooth motion, drew one out from the middle of the deck and tossed it on the table face up.  Black joker.

“Oh?  So which one is Hanzo?”

Another card flicked out on the table.  Ten of diamonds.  Of course.  Genji watched as McCree shuffled the cards between human and cyborg hand, mesmerized.  He’d seen the card tricks before, what seemed like a lifetime ago when he had just settled in with Overwatch for the first time.  Back then, the queen in McCree’s deck had a tattoo under her eye, the jack held a sheaf of wheat in his arms, the king wore a black crown in the shape of swords.  Now the face cards were all skulls.  But McCree carried the deck with him everywhere he went just the same, freaking everyone out whenever poker night came around.  A memento of the past he still loved, but which he could not relive again.  Genji had kept a similar keepsake with him, too; a photograph of Hanzo and himself in their matching training outfits, standing in front of the dojo at Hanamura, stuck in a frame in his room in Nepal.

The movie finished a few minutes later, and Genji stood up to stretch, his body reminding him to go recharge for the night.  Glancing at McCree, he said, “Jesse… If it makes things too awkward, you don’t have to hang out with us, you know.  I won’t be offended.”

“Sweetheart, I’d hang out with you and Hanzo no matter what awkward thing happened.  The pair of you are easy on the eyes, and trust me, I need a break after chasing down Roadhog and Junkrat for almost a year.”

“Aww, you don’t think Jamison is cute?” Genji teased.  “You know he has a crush on you.”

“Not you, too!  It’s hero-worship, okay?!” McCree complained, much to Genji’s amusement.

“Anyway… thank you again, Jesse.  Sorry that you had to strike out twice with us, but you might be happy to know you’re the first person I’ve ever set up with my brother who he’s ever had a strong reaction to.”

“Well, I’ll be.”  Although McCree’s expression seemed to indicate that he was not sure this was a good or bad thing.

“Hanzo doesn’t…  he doesn’t really make decisions, not without consulting Father or the elders, he usually doesn’t care too much if it’s not related to the clan.  You are probably the first real choice he’s made on his own since he left home.”

“You mean, after deciding to join you here with Overwatch,” McCree corrected him.

Genji froze, suddenly silent.  “I… guess, yeah,” he ventured after a second.  “Something like that.”  He turned to leave, but not before sensing McCree’s presence behind him and getting enveloped by a hug.

“Hey, don’t doubt yourself so much, Genji.  It’s not like you.”

“Heh.  You’re right.”  He tilted his head upward, letting McCree kiss the point of his visor below his forehead protector, where his nose should be, wondered briefly before shrugging it aside what it would be like if he could have just tried harder to make it work with Jesse.  “Don’t worry, I’ll be back to normal soon enough,” he assured him.  “Good night, Jesse, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, thanks again for bringing me my gun back.”  McCree let him go, smiled and said, “Sleep well now, Genji.”

 

* * *

 

 

In fact, Genji did not sleep so well, not at first.  Back in his own room at last, he let himself charge, fiddling with the thick bundle of wires that connected to the ports inlaid along his spinal column.  He wondered what Hanzo would think of the arrangement, for Hanzo had never seen the inside of his room, and certainly never saw him recharge his battery cells or restock his shuriken supply or replace any damaged cybernetic part.  Probably for the best, he would be weirded out, Genji decided, the way he was himself the very first time they instructed him on how to maintain his own body.  He let his biolights dim for the session, trying to get in as comfortable position as the wires would allow, in order to assume a meditative state and clear his mind.  Still, he could only doze in and out of true slumber, feeling restless after the long hours spent sleeping in Hanzo’s bed the past two days.  More than ever, he felt the loss of a warm solid presence by his side, the way he had not missed it during the time spent with Zenyatta studying and healing.

Something continued to niggled at his consciousness, something about what he just said to McCree, that he felt he had to try to pin down amidst the clutter in his brain or else he would never get any rest.  What was it that he said?  Hanzo feeling safe and protected here at Watchpoint despite knowing Overwatch had once put a bounty on him… It hardly seemed possible, and yet the evidence was there, Hanzo making his horrible jokes that no one else laughed at except McCree and even then not all of the time… sleeping deeply with barely any nightmares, often enjoying cat naps out in the field, curled up in the sniper’s nest, on top of the payload… drinking his favorite brand of sake to his fill…  eating food whenever he wanted without fear of being poisoned except by lactose…

Genji paused his restless fidgeting, struck by realization.  That must be the reason for Hanzo producing milk after so many years of not doing so.  Being on the run, overwhelmed with guilt and depression, that must have caused him too much stress and upset his body’s balance.  Now that Hanzo had accepted this place as his new home, was on his way to accept Genji and the rest as his family whether he wanted to or not…  He wanted to go tell his brother immediately, but hard-won prudence caused him to refrain.  He should wait, confirm his brother’s delicate status first, bring the topic up when things had calmed down.  But in case Hanzo went back to his coldly intolerant self after this episode, Genji wanted to squeeze in one last chance to talk to his brother.  Tonight, before everything returned to normal in the light of day.  And perhaps, if all went well, he could say those words as McCree had recommended…

Detaching himself from the power supply, Genji slipped out into the hallways, then remembered Hanzo had installed a difficult lock-combination on his door which he had not quite figured out yet.  Foiled by technology, Genji cursed under his breath and headed outside, climbing down from the roof before Mei could spot him until he reached Hanzo’s window.  The security much more relaxed here, as the window was situated hundreds of meters above an ocean full of jagged rocks, and he easily worked the catch free and slid cat-like through the opening into Hanzo’s room.

The fact that Genji was not immediately shot full of arrows was lending evidence to his theory.  Hanzo was still asleep, but he stirred as soon as Genji alighted on the floor, fingers above the blanket twitching.  Quietly, Genji approached the bed, taking in his brother’s sleep-relaxed face, the mess of tangled black and greying hair, that perfect chest rising and falling with each even breath, those broad shoulders, those muscular arms, one of which was currently cradling the sake bottle as if it were a plush animal.  Hanzo had truly become a beauty, Genji thought, in his own way.  The long, sour face he recalled from his youth, the heavy brow and pouty lip and ever-squinting eyes, transformed over the years into a visage noble and elegant, the rest of his body toned and sculpted to god-like perfection.  A body that begged to be caressed, and Genji longed to do so, his hands trembling in the depth of his desire.

Below him, Hanzo moved, eyelids fluttering under the veil of moonlight.  He glanced sleepily up, mumbling Genji’s name.

“I’m here, Hanzo.”

Hanzo shifted under the blanket, one hand reaching up to brush the hair out of his face.  “…Had a good dream.” 

“Yeah?”

“You were in it,” Hanzo murmured, voice slurred in his drowsiness.  Genji could not quite reply, for his mouth had gone dry as the blanket slipped down further over exposed skin, the kimono nearly completely off his brother’s shoulders, the waist tie long undone. 

After a half a minute or so, Hanzo turned onto his other side, his breathing deep and slow once more.  Genji sighed, the tension draining out of his shoulders and neck.  He clearly was not ready to push their relationship any further.  But he wasn’t running away, either.  He would make his case, when Hanzo was awake anyway, and he would let Hanzo decide for himself, and he would support his brother no matter what.  Proud to have made such a mature and sensitive decision all on his own, Genji leaned over, one hand resting on the headboard, whispered as quietly as his voice box could go.  Just to practice for that some day, if it should ever arrive.

He almost jumped out of his armor when Hanzo repeated after him.  Then he relaxed, seeing Hanzo cuddle the bottle of sake closer.  He was saying ‘I love you’ to his sake bottle, the way McCree said ‘I love you’ to his burgers and fries, of course.  That was all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are still here, especially after the first chapter lmao, I want to say thanks for coming on this ride with me. We may all die in a nuclear war soon, and in that event, I wanted to write as much as I could so my last thought as I get obliterated into ash along with everyone else is "at least I got pretty far into that milky bro fucky fic lmao." And if we don't all die, then at least I got to write something I wanted to read (??? lmao???). As always, please feel free to follow for mini-updates and art at shame-on-nyall.tumblr.com.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The strength of brotherly bonds are "chest"ed. Will they hold strong or be broken like McCree's kneecaps were?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 months later... Yikes, okay, I lied, there's at least one more chapter. Objectively speaking, people may not like this installment, as it is, without a doubt, just cringe-worthy garbage without even a hint of hot milky tiddies to make it worth the time reading it. But it is just that much closer to the satisfaction of a true ending, so I'm also not very sorry.

Whatever had agitated his student’s spirit yesterday seemed to have eased this morning, and Genji, while still a little more nervous than usual, brimmed over with good cheer despite the early hour. Zenyatta made no observation aloud on it, content to quietly drift along after Genji on his way to his brother’s room after a brief yet hectic stop in the kitchens to get breakfast.  Neither of them needed solid sustenance, of course, but the object of Genji’s preoccupation did.

“Master, please stay off to the side, Hanzo may be a morning person, but his dragons are not.”  Genji pressed the keypad to announce their presence and was answered with a grumbled “go away” in Japanese.  Knocking firmly on the door, Genji only gave up when the panel slid aside a short distance, revealing Hanzo’s glaring face.

“What is it, Genji?” Hanzo asked crossly.

“Good morning!  Did you sleep well, anija?  Are you ready for a new day?”

“Yes.  Now tell me what you want or go away.”

“No need to be rude, Master Zenyatta and I got you breakfast,” Genji explained.

Hanzo grunted suspiciously, possibly in anticipation of being offered motor oil to consume, but as Genji had planned, the door slid open a little more and he leaned out in spite of himself to locate the source of the delicious aromas.  “Thank you, but you need not have troubled yourselves, Genji, Zenyatta, I can break my own fast,” Hanzo said primly, in direct contrast to his halfway reaching out to the tray Zenyatta held.

“It was no problem, anija!  Lena and Jamison had already made a ton of food, which you should try, like these… uhh…” Genji paused, clearly considering the terms the two of them had used to describe their calorie-filled pan-fried concoction, decided Hanzo was not going to accept the breakfast if he said those words aloud, and went on a different tack.  “I also found stuff that is definitely not cat food, fresh and nutritious… fruit things.  And look at this cute parfait!”

“I don’t know why Soldier insists everyone eats yogurt, surely he remembers I cannot digest it…” Hanzo muttered, somewhat confused as to how he ended up with the tray of food but also not eager to give it back.

“Then I will take the parfait off your hands,” Genji volunteered, grabbing a spoon and the glass layered with yogurt and fruit and granola.

“Do as you wish,” Hanzo allowed automatically.

“My student,” Zenyatta intervened, just a half-second too late, as the sound of metal striking metal resulted in a blob of yogurt and blueberry sliding pathetically down Genji’s faceplate.

Between the two brothers, Genji recovered first. With a mechanical chuckle, he set the spoon back into the glass and wiped at his mask with his hand.  “Whoops, forgot I can’t eat!”

Hanzo, on the other hand, still looked dumbstruck, his entire body trembling ever so slightly, almost unnoticeable except to an Omnic’s all-seeing eyes.  At Genji’s side, beyond the room’s threshold, Zenyatta could not do much, but the orbs floating closest to Hanzo sounded a soft chime, which seemed to shake Hanzo out of his trance.

“Genji… how do you forget?” Hanzo asked tonelessly.

“Hey, relax, Hanzo.  I’ll get a wet wipe and clean it off, it’s not a big deal!”

In a flurry of motion, the tray of food was set aside with a loud clang somewhere on some table, and Hanzo whirled through the doorway to grab at Genji’s shoulder.  “How do you forget, brother?  It has been ten years since that day.  I haven’t forgotten, not for one second!”  Then the storm subsided, the crashing waves retreated, and more quietly, broken and lost like flotsam on the shore, he said, “I… should not be here.  It is wrong, I am not supposed to be here, I knew it…”

“What’s wrong?” Lena’s voice piped up from behind them, causing the Shimada brothers to jump like startled cats and Zenyatta’s orbs to let out a jarring noise.  “Why shouldn’t you be here, love?”

“Because Genji has-“

“Actually, you’ve got a package, express delivery, Hanzo!” Lena interrupted, handing him a small clipboard and pen, “And you certainly should be here to sign for it, otherwise it’d go return to sender and won’t that be a waste!”

“Err… that is true…”

“A package?  How exciting!” Zenyatta observed, as he would whenever Genji went to collect his mail despite the monastic order’s clearly stated rule to not gather worldly possessions of any sort, especially manga and videogames and light-up shoes and SK-II facial treatment essence.  He hovered close by Genji, who had craned his neck to try to decipher the mailing label, the sender’s identity, the contents of the mystery parcel to his brother.

“It is nothing special,” Hanzo began, then broke off into a snapped “Genji, give it back!” as Genji grabbed the bulky wrapped parcel from Lena and shook it to find out what was inside.  There was a faint rattle deep within, but nothing else telltale.

“A jacket, for the cool weather,” Hanzo explained, after taking the package back and glaring at Genji.  “I did not want to get sick again, as I am the only dedicated long-range defender at the moment.”

“Of course, makes perfect sense!” Lena said brightly, taking the clipboard from Hanzo.  “That’s all I’ve got, have a wonderful rest of your day, you three!”  Then she darted away before they had time to thank her.

 

* * *

 

 

Lena’s interruption of the brothers’ exchange had been so fast-paced, so bizarrely irrelevant yet on-topic, that even the normally focused and self-absorbed Hanzo could not regain his train of thought and stood there staring after where she had disappeared to for a few seconds.  Zenyatta, composed as ever and wishing to take the opportunity to advise and teach when he could, began gently, “It seems that despite your continued doubts about your place here, Hanzo, a part of you has already considered Watchpoint your home.  Perhaps we can meditate upon this…”

Frowning, ears reddening as well, Hanzo opened his mouth to make his denial, but before he could say anything, Genji had shoved the parfait in his direction, forcing Hanzo to grab the glass before it dropped onto the floor, thereby loosening his grip on his parcel, which allowed Genji to snatch it away and dart into the room in a blur of green and white.  Zenyatta watched in growing amusement as Hanzo snarled and ducked to kick Genji’s legs from under him, only to have Genji catch himself at the last second with one hand on the floor.  In an instant, Hanzo lunged to grab his package back, Genji retaliating by planting his foot onto his brother’s stomach and vaulting him overhead.  Somehow, without spilling one bit of oat and dairy goodness, Hanzo landed catlike on his feet, while Genji rolled smoothly upright into a defensive crouch. Zenyatta had to applaud such athletic grace, such silent swiftness, trademarks of the most skilled ninja siblings in all of Japan.

“Impressive, though that is only to be expected from my student and his brother,” Zenyatta exclaimed, still clapping from where he hovered at the doorway.

Genji made the mistake of acknowledging his beloved master’s praise, one hand raised in Zenyatta’s direction, and Hanzo took the chance to grab his package, somewhat awkwardly.  Under such strain, the brown paper tore apart, revealing a clear plastic wrapped bundle of nondescript grey-brown.

Gleefully hauling the bagged items to the bed and sitting down, Genji slashed the plastic open with a handy shuriken, shaking out the first piece.  “Wow, Hanzo, I did not let you use my wi-fi connection to purchase this… this garbage-bag!” he complained upon realizing what he was looking at.

“It is for comfort, you fiend, not high fashion,” Hanzo retorted as Genji pulled out the equally dull sweatpants while tsking disapprovingly. 

“If you care about me, please, please ask my advice before you go shopping for clothes, anija.  I expected so much better from you.  Return it immediately, I’ll get you something much cooler.”

“Hmph, I will not take sartorial advice from someone who wears neon even as a ninja.”

“Your brother does have a point…” Zenyatta added neutrally, since nearly everyone in Overwatch implemented glowing LED lights and reflective neon stripes in their gear for all missions, not just Genji.

Shrugging and laughing, Genji moved to lay the jacket and pants onto the bed, just as a little dark brown glass bottle rolled out from a pocket and onto the floor with a soft yet distinct rattle.  Zenyatta did not get a chance to observe anything further before Genji dove to retrieve the bottle with an audible gasp.  His movements jerky in his distress, Genji looked around and then just shoved the bottle down the front of Hanzo’s kimono.

Hanzo, who had been staring aghast as the most recent events unfolded, could not come up with any sarcastic commentary for once.  He had the look of a man shocked into silence.  Probably related to Genji slipping in another feel of his chest right in front of a monk after dropping the bottle into his kimono.

“Looks like we’re done unpacking here!  Better get going, master, a lot of meditation to uh, meditate on,” Genji said brightly, getting to his feet and plucking the parfait from his brother’s hands.

“Will you be joining us, Hanzo?” Zenyatta asked once Genji reached him at the room’s entrance.

Shooting one last glare at his younger brother, Hanzo warily nodded.  “I may…” he murmured, no excuse available now that he had gotten better.

“You are always welcome to meditate with us, Hanzo, when you feel ready.”

But judging from the somber, troubled expression on the elder Shimada’s face, Zenyatta thought it might be a while yet before Genji’s wish came true.

 

* * *

 

 

Watching his brother and the Omnic monk depart for their morning meditation, Hanzo slid one hand into his kimono and took out the medicine bottle Genji stashed there, turning it over pensively before locking it away into his weapons case.  It was a miracle that the back alley doctor who supplied him with the pills managed to get the bottle packed into his parcel of clothes just in time to be picked up with the morning mail by Lena.  It was, however, unfortunate that Zenyatta had seen the bottle Genji dropped, but at least there was no lettering on the label to read.  If Angela ever decided to investigate, Hanzo had his story.  Sooner or later, she would, so he must be vigilant and ready to field her questions.

Hanzo glanced at the cooling and surely indigestible breakfast tray Genji and Zenyatta had offered him still teetering on the edge of the table and had to sigh.  Even as he sat down and nibbled at what he assumed was a fat-encapsulated crumble of pork sausage mixed with egg and potato and who knows what else and managed to swallow the lump without gagging, he recalled Genji’s recent haphazard actions that had culminated in this morning’s yogurt incident, his own confused reactions ever since he arrived here.  It had become obvious that Genji was losing what little sense he had left, so caught up with the fact that his brother had actually joined them to pay much attention to reality; namely, the fact that he was a cyborg now, not their father’s favored sparrow any longer. Because of Hanzo’s presence at the base reminding him of his past, because he ended up spoiling Genji anyway despite his best intentions.  It was a sign.  He was not meant to be here among this motley assortment of characters with whom Genji chose to throw in his lot.  He had to leave Overwatch, for everyone’s peace of mind.

In sober thought, Hanzo finished grazing over the contents of the breakfast, sipping some of the cooled barley tea included instead of his usual morning serving of sake.  The prospect of meditating with Genji and Zenyatta did not appeal to him at this time, neither did associating with anyone else on base, regardless if they were happy to see him healthy (or at least his left pectoral) or if they still kept their guard up around him.  Genji’s assurance that the team missed his presence and cared about him despite some initial distrust rang overly optimistic, as hollow as he believed McCree’s infatuation to be.  His younger brother had made mistakes before, Hanzo had years of experience covering for him, but on this matter he really wanted to believe Genji.  Hanzo could not deny that he was just tired of running.  He wanted to belong somewhere and live for a purpose once more.  He needed to be with Genji more than anything.

The only question… did Genji need to be with him?

The peaceful slumber of the night, the sweet fragments of dreams Hanzo chased upon awakening, all of that had cleared like mist under a late summer morning sun.  The freshness of the early hours no longer brought him the same joy as they did in his youth, when he looked forward to completing the tasks of the day.  Now Hanzo associated morning with ever-increasing stress, a cyclical countdown of minutes until the oblivion of either sleep or his next bottle of sake.

Since his mind could give him no comfort, he decided it would be better to keep his body occupied, attempt to keep his archery skills in peak condition so that he could provide defense for his brother and teammates as promised.  (Or to facilitate his escape from Watchpoint if the situation should arise.)  He had missed training all of yesterday after all.  Grimly, Hanzo threw on his newly acquired jacket over his customary gi and hakama, gathered Stormbow and its quiver, and set out for the training area.  For a second, Hanzo wondered how McCree was doing, since the two of them had abandoned him there with smashed kneecaps last night, but he figured if anything serious happened to McCree afterwards, Genji would have told him.  Since he was McCree’s friend supposedly and had said he would talk to him… If he remembered, to anyway. 

Well, that was no longer his problem…

A scowl lingering on his face, Hanzo turned the corner past the sliding doors and scaled the wall to the nearest observation tower.  His ears detected conversation in the target range, the bass beat of Lucio’s music, and seeking refuge from unnecessary chatter, he contented himself with silently unleashing arrow after arrow on the moving dummies patrolling the skywalks and stairwells far above. 

At last his curiosity won out, and Hanzo crept to the ledge overlooking one of the target ranges below.  McCree was indeed there, unerringly unloading a round of bullets into a group of darting practice droids, only the slightest of stiffness in his steps as evidence of the scuffle last night.  There was Lucio gliding across the walls behind the range to the rhythm of his speakers, adding turns and jumps to increase the area he could cover.  Hanzo knew he had sensed a third presence earlier, and soon enough his hearing picked up the dull clang of heavy weights against a sturdy rack, before Zarya herself could be glimpsed leaving the weight room for the showers.

Satisfied with his assessment, Hanzo went back to his own practice, this time with an added twist.  Nocking an arrow to Stormbow, he took a breath and released, watching the arrow strike the dummy McCree was aiming at just a fraction of a second before Peacemaker’s bullet hit home.  Almost shocked to the point of losing his hat, McCree swore and glanced up around him at the walls and ledges and walkways, trying to pinpoint Hanzo’s location.  Hanzo had of course long vanished from their view.  From on top of a ledge that could only be easily accessed by Fareeha and Genji and the like, Hanzo leaned out and fired through a narrow aperture at the reassembling target droid.

“Dangit, Hanzo, you tryna be faster than a bullet, too?!” McCree called out, disgruntled yet duly impressed. “Genji kept doing stunts like that, near got himself killed a few more times back then!” Jamming his hat back onto his hair, McCree grumbled, “Already got my hands full with the Junkers, I don’t need to be baby-sitting off-the-chain ninjas, too.”

With a snort of amusement, Hanzo quickly dropped to the ground level by McCree’s side.  “I only want to keep my skills intact.  I have no intention of getting injured.”  Not like Genji, it seemed.

“I’ll testify to anyone who asks that you’re as sharp as ever,” McCree told him, holstering his gun.

The cowboy thankfully kept a professional attitude, his usual lovesick pining dialed back quite a bit to Hanzo’s surprise, although not entirely absent.  On the other hand, he thought there may have been another reason for McCree’s change in demeanor.  Hanzo gave him a calculating look, saying matter-of-factly, “Interesting, I notice you are able to walk without the use of crutches today, McCree.”

McCree gave a little heh at that.  “It just so happened Angela and Winston happen to be up and about last night, and the doc got me fixed up in the infirmary right quick.”  No thanks to you two, was the unspoken addition.

“My apologies,” Hanzo murmured in a cool tone.  “I did not mean to have added to the list of the doctor’s responsibilities.  I was later told she had had a busy evening.”

“…And… You’re also sorry to have smashed my kneecaps with my gun that you then stole and left me out in the cold without getting help, ain’tcha, Hanzo?” McCree prompted hopefully, having sworn off pursuing the elder Shimada in a romantic manner but apparently still determined to put him on a pedestal, however shaky.

“Oh, that.”  Hanzo dusted an imaginary speck of dust off his shoulder and said, “You keep mentioning you had been Blackwatch’s finest agent, Reye’s right-hand man.  Since you did not lift a hand against us, I assumed you had everything under control.  Am I not correct, gunslinger?”

Sweating (figurative) bullets at this unflatteringly accurate depiction, McCree tugged the brim of his hat over his eyes.  “We-ell, you two looked like you were having a grand old time, so of course I didn’t want to interrupt,” he replied sheepishly.  “Which I could have, at any moment, if I wanted to.  But just for the future, maybe don’t rough up a fellow so much?  None of us are supposed to be in organized crime anymore, in case you forgot.”

“I will see what I can do.”

Lucio had glided over to them at this point, listening to the conversation with an adorably puzzled frown on his face.  “Hey now, this doesn’t add up, why were you smashing McCree’s kneecaps in, Hanzo? I was pretty sure Hana told meeeeee…”

“She told you nothing, because I bought her silence,” Hanzo interrupted abruptly, “so you are pretty sure of nothing.”

“Uhh…” Glancing up at Hanzo’s stormy expression, Lucio nodded, flashing a bright grin.  “Right, so what was I saying again?  Totally can’t remember!”

“Good, let’s keep it that way,” Hanzo muttered, while McCree shook his head and sighed.

“Now, now, we’re all just trying to get to know each other here, become good friends, see, so we can be better teammates and the best heroes Overwatch can ask for,” McCree said loudly to reassure any listeners in the vicinity that no one had slid back into old habits best left redacted in their official files.

“Of course,” Hanzo agreed, in the tone of someone who had never purposefully done anything to become a good friend in his entire life, much less a teammate or hero.  “Which reminds me, Lucio,” he began, returning his attention to someone slightly less irritating, “I had been meaning to thank you earlier for the music player you gifted me the other day.”

“Y-you liked my music?!” Lucio squawked.

Choosing his words carefully, Hanzo said, “The songs I listened to were very… upbeat.  With a… positive atmosphere.”

Lucio seemed equally shocked and delighted by Hanzo’s acknowledgement, and he stuttered out uncharacteristically, “W-wow, I mean, if you ever want a change of pace, I can put together another mix, it’d be no problem!  I got a few tracks I’ve been working on I know you’d dig.”

“There is no rush, Lucio,” Hanzo replied, somewhat regretting initiating further interaction but doing his best out of respect to a capable healer whose skills would definitely be needed to keep Genji alive once he left.  Fortunately, Lucio had the faraway look of inspiration lighting up his eyes.  In a moment, he excused himself and skated off to get those melodies out of his head and into the world of sound. 

“Aww, you’re not so cold after all!” McCree said with a pleased grin, about to slap Hanzo on the back but pulled back just in time to save the use of his hand.  “Guess Genji was right, you’ve made some progress adjusting here.  Now why won’t you ever let him in on that instead of being a grump all the time?”

Hanzo was about to nod, but something made him pause.  Unease, a frisson of disturbance that could be felt through the dragon of ink tattooed on his skin all the way into his bones.  A warning he must heed.

“I know what you’re up to, McCree.”  Ever so carefully, he said, “I respect you as Genji’s comrade.  But your particular skills are not reserved just for heroics.  You are a mercenary, and I will not let my guard down, for all of your silly outfits and foolish rambling.”

McCree frowned, looking genuinely confused.  “Now how do you figure that?”

“Simple.  You are always armed when you are around me.  Not so around Genji.”  The implication should have been clear; Hanzo believed McCree tagging along after him was not in hopes of quenching a junker-induced dry spell.  (Although that could still account for a good 30%; he was not so modest.)

“Well, well, well.” McCree shrugged, eyes downcast, but not before an ominous flash of red light winked out under the shadow of his hat.  “For someone as clever as you to tell me that, you must think you got a royal flush in your hand.”

Hanzo hesitated, very much aware that they were more or less alone in the furthest target range from the central living quarters and meeting rooms.  All he had was a partial bluff against a man who Genji, of all people, swore was a master at playing cards.  Hanzo was only guessing based on what Zenyatta had told him, bits and pieces from the files he had scanned through before arriving at Watchpoint proper, what little Genji had revealed about his past in Overwatch, but McCree’s unusually restrained reaction seemed to confirm the gist of his theory.  “What you just said about being teammates and comrades, becoming heroes, I am only saying that I find it hard to believe,” he stated calmly, honestly.  “It is true that I want to become used to this place, that becoming friends even with you is something I would not reject.  But know that I am here to fight for Genji.  He is my priority, and as long as you stay true to him, I will not turn on you.  As long as you give me no reason to distrust you.  Because my brother may have forgiven all of you involved with his creation, but I will not forget how you stole him and experimented on him…”

To his surprise, McCree laughed aloud, shaking his head in disbelief.  “You got the wrong guy, partner,” he said.  “ _Technically_ , I did nothing.  Now Reyes and I, we did our best to include Genji in Blackwatch, get him back on his feet after his rehab.  But others above us made the decision to retrieve his body and turn him into a cyborg in the first place.”

“…Blackwatch?  You mean Overwatch.”  Hanzo narrowed his eyes, thrown off balance by McCree’s interruption.  That feeling of freefall, struggling for a handhold while the ground gave way below his feet.  The sensation of unease only grew, a tidal wave pulling the very air from his lungs.

“Yeah, Blackwatch was part of Overwatch, but Genji and I worked under Reyes directly.  Bit of a difference there.”

“No.  Genji showed me a photo of the team… his clothing had the Overwatch emblem, not Blackwatch’s…”

“Oh God, the one time we got him to wear clothes?”  McCree chuckled again, and Hanzo gritted his teeth at the too-casual sound.  “That was much later.  Genji musta been in Blackwatch with me for four years or so.  He’d been taking down the Shimada clan and operations in East Asia while the medical team completed his cyberization process.  I think Genji didn’t get on Overwatch’s official payroll until his final upgrades were done.  But soon after that, he left the organization.”

“No…” Hanzo repeated, more uncertainly this time.  Genji had never said anything about how long it took to build his cyborg body, what specifically he had to do as compensation for their investment. But Hanzo never pressed for details.  He had not thoroughly considered the implication of Overwatch, or Blackwatch in this case, spiriting away a scion of the very empire they were trying to bring down.  But he should have…  That was what happened with McCree and Deadlock Gang, was it not?  “Genji would have mentioned that.”

“Hey, I got nothing to gain by lying to you, Hanzo,” McCree said quietly, his hands palms up in a reassuring gesture.  “You can ask Genji yourself.  He was in Blackwatch with me.”

Hanzo rubbed at his forehead, suddenly wishing for alcohol and the oblivion of sleep.  He had been meaning to make his intentions clear to McCree, and thus the former members of Overwatch, to assure them that he would participate in their missions as long as Genji was protected.  That keeping track of him was of little use, unproductive and a waste of their resources.

But if Overwatch back then had forced Genji’s involvement with Blackwatch, if they had required his cooperation in exchange for completion of his cyborg body...  There was his fear, resurfacing into the light once more.  They could still be trapped, movements tracked and bodies claimed by an organization working outside of government and law.

Just like when we were boys, Hanzo thought in grim despair, clutching at his hair.  Hysterical.  He wanted to laugh, but could not even summon a noise.

He felt, rather than saw or heard, McCree’s presence envelop him, warm and bittersweet.  Blind and deaf, he struggled against the hope and comfort and security he had forsaken, fled instead for the miserable irresistible uncertainty that made up the world he shared with his brother.

 

* * *

 

 

Genji took a breath and exhaled long and slow, the way he used to, the way he no longer needed to.  He glanced towards the warren that made up Watchpoint, but his brother never appeared at the courtyard entrance.

“I don’t think Hanzo is going to join us after all, Master,” he murmured.

At his side, Zenyatta watched a duo of autumn butterflies drift silently away into the breeze.  “No.  Not yet, my student.”

 

* * *

 

 

Zenyatta’s words still lingered in his mind after they had parted ways for the afternoon.  Today would not be the day to push his luck, Genji knew, Hanzo seemed to have mostly reverted back to his usual surly self if the morning’s events were any indication.  Yet he had hopes their bond had only strengthened during these past few days, and it was just a matter of time before the two of them could find healing.  Not just for Hanzo, but for himself as well.  For all of the serenity Genji had been able to achieve through his studies with Zenyatta, there remained a despairing ache within his heart that could only be assuaged by reuniting with his brother, by knowing he would be okay.  Despite the constant friction between them that would likely never be completely soothed, they were moving forward.  They were going to be okay.

About a minute later, after encountering McCree in the hallway, Genji had to take all of that back.

“Yeaaaah, I’d say he looked pretty upset when he ran off,” McCree admitted.

“Jesse… how?!” Genji put his hands to his head in frustration.  Had McCree’s legendary charm really rusted that much over the years to have effect solely on old women and for some reason Junkrat now?

Defensively, McCree said, “We were just conversating on the practice range, he was talking to Lucio for a bit, even only used one death threat the whole time.  Then somehow Hanzo got me talking about Blackwatch…  I guess it didn’t sit right with him, our past working together.”  Scratching his chin, McCree added in a lower voice, “Can’t imagine why… It’s the same work the three of us have been doing since we were teens…”

“And now you can’t find him.”  Genji sighed.  He would not have imagined Hanzo to be bothered upon discovering the fact that his younger brother worked for Blackwatch for a few years, since he had not let up his yakuza prince act for even one second the past few months.  But then again, Hanzo’s mood as of late vacillated between extremes, so this revelation being withheld from his knowledge could easily have been the final straw.  “Well, it should be fine, Jesse.  I will explain to Hanzo, it will be okay.”

Hanzo was not in his room.  Not in the kitchen, his next favorite place as long as no one else was there.  Nor any of the tall, isolated lookout points on base where he would take naps in the sunlight.  Bemused, thinking on the past, the only other place a younger Hanzo would seek refuge, Genji finally opened the door of his own room to see his brother sitting on his bed.  Hanzo’s eyes flicked up to acknowledge the cyborg at the doorway, then lowered to fixate on the holo-display of a tablet where images and lines of text scrolled steadily along.  Black and red and bone-white.  Blackwatch colors.

“How did you get in?” Genji asked.  Because this was the first time Hanzo ever stepped foot into his room at Watchpoint.

“I guessed your passcode.  One of the few things I know about you, it seems.”  Hanzo looked tired, unhappy, but summoned a wry smile.  So not a fight, at least not at the moment.  Gingerly, Genji sat next to him, then reached over to turn off the tablet once the images cycled through again from the beginning.  There wasn’t much to his early years in Blackwatch worth recording.

Setting the device aside, Hanzo extended a hand, and Genji took it.  Their fingers intertwined, and Hanzo brought Genji’s hand close, as if to inspect it carefully.  The same hand, Genji realized, that was no longer the bared scarred flesh from his Blackwatch years, having been cut away years ago when his final set of upgrades were installed, the last of his humanity replaced with advanced prosthesis.

Did Hanzo regret having seen the ruin of his body after their duel?  Did he wonder what it must have felt like, the pain of losing more and more of one’s body when the cells could not regenerate fast enough to keep up with the cybernetic workload?  Genji could not know, but he pulled Hanzo’s hand to his own breast, where his heart still beat beneath the energy core.

It’s still me in here, he wanted to say.  But he didn’t think Hanzo would believe it.  Or that he would be comforted by it, either.

With a shudder, Hanzo suddenly looked around him, as if seeing the interior of Genji’s room for the first time.  Genji followed his glance in morbid curiosity, watched him take in the recharging cables hanging from the ceiling, repair kit opened to reveal solder and wire and filters and mesh patches, small canisters of sterilized liquid next to slim cases of nutrition film, the ever present neon glow of his swords and shuriken permeating the room.

“Black and red does not suit you,” he murmured eventually, squeezing and then letting go of Genji’s hand.

Genji nodded.  “So you do prefer the green.”

“Unbelievable, I know.”  Another silence, longer than before.

“Anija…  This was never supposed to be a secret or anything like that,” Genji began.  “I had to work for Blackwatch, yes, but I wanted to take down the clan and make things right, too.”

“I know,” Hanzo said before he could elaborate.  “Do not feel guilty, Genji.  I never asked, so… you had no reason to tell me.”  Still quietly, still miserably, Hanzo continued, “But…  I should have known, right?  If I had just paid more attention.  All of those manga magazines you subscribed to, those collectible figurines we pre-ordered, the video games you played every day.  You have always wanted to be a hero, even to the detriment of the clan.”  Hanzo chuckled, a bitter, self-hating sound.  “You had chosen something over our family.  And so did I, eventually.  If only Father could see us now.”

At that last statement, Genji blurted out angrily, “Unbelievable!  You had gone for almost forty-eight hours without mentioning him.  Brother,” he pleaded, “it’s been over ten years since Father has passed away.  You managed to get free of the elders who tormented us, and you have me by your side once more.  Why do you bring up the past and continue to hurt yourself like this?”

“Because unlike you, I don’t want to repeat my mistakes.  You went from murdering for one family to murdering for another, Genji.  I won’t let you, us, be used like that again.”

“But this is all we know!” Genji exclaimed.  “Fighting is our life, and where we can make the most difference for the world.  Would you prefer to waste your life assassinating minor politicians when you can fight for justice instead?  Would you not rather use your skills for a truly worthy cause?”

“There is no justice in the world, Genji, you should know that by now.”  Hanzo stared grimly at his hands, frustrated that his little brother could not understand what was so obvious.  “Overwatch was corrupted, in spite of its grand intentions.  Who can say that this particular group would not fall prey to that rot someday?”

“It won’t,” Genji declared.  “You are here now, so that won’t happen.”

 “Are you so sure?” Hanzo asked sharply.  “You do not suspect that I will somehow try to take over and start the family empire anew?  Perhaps I would be the source of corruption.  After all, I am so like father, as you’ve said yourself.”

Dumbstruck, Genji hesitated, wondering if perhaps Hanzo’s persistent inquiries after Junkrat’s alleged treasure had been for that end.  He did not believe so, but Hanzo had never needed much to maintain his particular lifestyle, so why would he want so much money…?

Snorting, Hanzo muttered, “Even my own brother does not trust me.  Perhaps I _was_ better off as an only child.”

Said like a throw-away statement, but those words stung just as much as it did back then, when they were children fighting over something stupid.  “Anija, no.”  How he hated the whine reverberating in his voice box, but he could not help it.  “Don’t do this.  You were doing so well.”  _We were almost there_.

“You know, there were any number of organizations eager to pay whatever amount I asked if I would join their ranks.  But I turned down all of their offers.  I knew, somehow, that I did not belong with them.”

“Because you belong here, with me.”  Baring the desires of his heart, that he knew Hanzo shared, Genji continued desperately, “You said you chose to join Overwatch, that you could get used to this life.  Anija, I need you, we all do.”

“Genji, even if I could believe that, I _shouldn’t_ be here,” Hanzo said, logic unflinching.  “I am holding you back from your healing.  My presence here has only ever brought dissent and suspicion to the rest of the team.  What little I can contribute… there are surely others who can do better.”

Already he sounded so far away, and Genji could barely choke back a strangled sob.  “You’re wrong!  We can make it work, if you just trust me, Hanzo.”

Wordlessly, Hanzo got to his feet, scooping Stormbow from where it rested against the bedstand, yet Genji still clung to his hand.

“I am telling you, you’re better off without me here,” Hanzo growled, but Genji only stood up at his side and wrapped his arms about his shoulders. 

“Are you going to leave then?” Genji whispered, tearfully, at least behind his mask.

“…What would you do if I said yes?” Hanzo asked, his voice low and almost gentle.

_Please stay, dearest, my stars._   “…I would help you, like I promised.”  _I love you._   “Even if it broke my heart.”

“Then yes.”

 

* * *

 

The dramatic exit Hanzo had been planning was completely spoiled by Genji tightening his grip, making pitiful wailing noises while Hanzo tried to throw his weight off.  This caught the attention of Hana, who was in the midst of bounding into their wing with a purposeful look and two controllers in hand all charged up and ready for an extensive gaming duel.  At the sight of Genji clinging determinedly onto Hanzo’s back, Hana impetuously leaped forward into Hanzo’s arms, forcing him to catch her before she barreled into the floor.  Her excuse?   A power move to intimidate her rival, Genji.  Effectively obliged into hauling the both of them into Hana’s gaming den before anyone else saw them and decided he should carry them as well, Hanzo managed to pry Genji and Hana off with extreme difficulty.  Disheveled and sweaty and pretty sure that both of his boobs had been grabbed, probably for good luck, Hanzo tried to flee, only to find his way out blocked by the arrival of Lucio and Lena and Fareeha and surprisingly Satya, who told him sternly that she was only there to moderate the rematch.  Hanzo, remembering now what life had been like in Hanamura Castle that one time when all eighty-six of their cousins had come into town with various aunties and uncles who were likely not related to them at all, gave up escaping for the time being.

The livestream will be over soon enough, Hanzo thought, the cameras will turn off and he could leave.  But in the meantime, since they had brought over so many snacks, he might as well eat something, have a drink.  And since Genji’s previous victory was obviously a fluke, judging by how terribly he was doing, the honorable thing to do would be to not leave him to take the loser selfie by himself.  So Hanzo told himself, as he tried to not lean into Genji’s side when all he wanted was to hold him one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to get the ending out in like... less than a year lmao. Happy one year anniversary of this fic to us all.

**Author's Note:**

> (Welp, I tried to write 3 entirely new kinks sexily, but no amount of alcohol could get me there lmao, sorry, feel free to shame me, I'm shaming me)


End file.
